#and like when she doesn’t recognize him how sad he becomes

[thetorturedlovergirl]

Thinking of a serious twelve, one who hasn't felt laughter or happiness since everything that happened on Gallifrey. Not Clara, no one to accompany him and make him feel safe, just wandering around doing what the doctor always does: helping people no matter what. He is sad, confused, he simply lives with a gap in his mind, an important face that is no longer there. He has a hole in his chest, one too big to forget and ignore.

Thinking about a twelve that the first laugh he had in a long time was created by his own wife. Seeing her again gave him back the joy he lost a while ago. How that laugh is so carefree, how that smile is so big and silly, showing how much he missed those special little moments. How the stupidest things like Hydroflax's head in a bag threatening them were the funniest thing in the world. How being back at his wife's side gave him back the joy he had lost so much. How, for just a moment, that hole was full again.

[occamstfs]

Slice of Italy

After an accident outside a local Italian restaurant, Jonathan finds himself itching to hop in the kitchen himself.

Bear TF with all that implies! In other news I think I'm going to go down to one story a week, been spending a little too much energy here. May open commissions if there is an interest there? Who knows! At any rate, enjoy this story! -Occam

It wasn’t even Jonathan’s fault the statue was broken. His clearly too drunk friends were jacking around and not listening to his voice of reason. The poor DD was just standing closest when it was inevitably knocked over and shattered. If he had followed their lead and fled, it’s likely they’d all be off scot-free, but his need to atone for his friend’s actions in whatever paltry way he could led him to start gathering the scattered pieces.

Hearing the shattering plaster, the hostess runs outside with a gasp as she takes in the scene. She stares in shock at Jonathan before retreating inside to surely grab someone more important. Jonathan is again left with the all too desirable option of flight, staring at pieces of the stereotypical Italian chef he sighs and keeps to his principles, slowly picking up pieces.

Really he did them a favor, he’s always hated the thing. Creepy little thing. He’s been coming here all his life and it’s always seemed like the eyes have followed him. Seeing them lifeless and cracked on the ground doesn’t make them any less eerie though. Nor does the disembodied plaster smirk lying askew to their side. Before he can shudder Jonathan jumps as the door to the restaurant slams open and out comes a burly manager, “Ah c’mon kid, now why’d ya go and do that?” 

Jonathan drops the shards of the statue he still held in shock as he stammers to explain that really he’s not at fault. Never especially good at doing anything but ceding ground to authority figures he immediately folds, “I well, um it wasn’t really my fault um. It was, uh- I’ll do whatever I can to make this right. I-” Looking in the young man’s eyes the manager sighs and waves him off, “No no kid don’t you- Accident’s happen. Hmph Cavallo loved that statue though hah!” There’s a sadness in his eyes as he looks at the shattered man once more before returning his gaze to Johnathan with a squint.

“You’re the youngest Clark boy eh?” Correct, though now well an adult, there remains a tinge of irritation any time it’s brought up that he will always be the youngest, the smallest, no matter how long time treks onward. Still, not the time, “Yes sir.” The manager scratches the back of his head and motions the younger man inside, “Why don’t you come in, I’ll have one of my hosts sweep up the mess later.” Jonathan furrows his brow as he’s ushered inside, any attempts he makes at offering his hand to do the dirty work are met with hems and haws from the manager as he is instead led into an office in the back of house.

“You just sit here Jonny and I’ll uh- Hm?” He pauses and looks at Jonathan, no, past Jonathan. As if he’s staring through the young man and seeing something beyond. Something different. Seconds pass and a pit grows in Jonathan’s stomach as the manager twitches soundlessly, wanting the moment to pass he calls out to the man, “Romeo? You alright?” 

Focus returns to the manager’s eyes and he laughs, “Hah! Of course, sorry about that sir! You just let me know if you need anything Mr. Clark.” With that he does a nod and closes the door behind himself, there’s the click of a lock but Jonathan doesn’t notice as he instead hones in on the fact that he just called the manager by his name.

He racks his mind to remember if he introduced himself, the manager did recognize him after all? Perhaps they’ve met before. He chews on the idea and tries to ignore the feeling of pulling the man’s name from some place in his mind he doesn’t have access to. Maybe he was wearing a name tag. Of course, with a sigh of relief tension fades from his chest before he even realizes how tight it had become from anxiety. He has all employees wear name tags after all, helps the customers feel at home.

After a second of rest he is struck with the implications of that flitting thought. He what!? Tightness in his chest returns with a furor as memories or meetings with teams of people he doesn’t recognize flash through his mind. Planning a culture, running shifts, designing a restaurant. Clutching at his chest with one hand and his head with the other Jonathan worries he’s losing it and goes to sit down. Reflexively opting for the cushy desk chair behind the desk rather than either of the two by the door. “God it was just a tacky statue, why am I having an episode about this!?” 

Sitting in the boss’ chair Jonathan finds himself growing unreasonably warm. Sweat drips from his brow as he tries to bring to mind strategies one would use to soothe a panic attack. Looking for something solid in the room to focus on Jonathan sees a photo of the owner standing next to the gaudy statue. Grimacing, through grinding teeth he grunts out a “not helpful.” Even less helpful is the ensuing migraine, as it pangs he blinks concertedly and upon reopening his eyes he finds the image has shifted to one of himself standing next to the statue, a too large smile plastered on his face just like that of the god-awful statue. Somewhere repressed within him the phrase ‘happiest day of my life’ pings, though his conscious mind resounds with an image of his college graduation.

Clearly unable to find peace in this room he fights against his perpetually pliant instincts and stands to leave despite Romeo’s request. Now standing, he realizes something bizarre has seemingly begun to happen to his body. It’s like he’s bloated? Looking down he sees buttons on his shirt suddenly straining. His indisputably slim waist has begun to expand. The sensation of being starved and sated paradoxically rise at once within Gionathan as he feels the sudden urge, an otherworldly need to burp. He chokes it down at first but as his waist continues to strain, now revealing skin in between buttons as his chest too begins to bulge he is unable to stop the rising gas.

Polite young man he is, even as it erupts he tries to at least quiet his burp, which only causes it to burst with more force. Louder than those performative burps that blare from his less than couth cohort, his face burns with embarrassment despite being alone in the room. His body doesn’t stop at one either, he belches uncontrollably as body inches larger with each release. Quickly bursting buttons off the front of his shirt and freeing a torso that, alongside growing a healthy layer of weight, has begun to itch.

His blonde treasure trail has slowly begun to thicken as his fingers furiously scratch into his new weightier gut. Not noticing the definitive muscle hiding beneath he instead balks as he feels his light body hair spread out and upwards. Sticky sweat still covering his form as the heat has not abated in the slightest he looks down to observe the unfamiliar curves sticking out from his chest as his few nearly invisible chest hairs begin to thicken in the center of his chest, meeting the still rising furry patch on his stomach. 

The movement of his arms bring a new change to his mind as they too have not been spared from these must be imagined changes. New biceps breach the open air as they bulge large enough to tear the sleeves into tatters, not obscene but simply too large to be restrained by his usually loose fitting button-up. Gionathan has never been especially proud of his figure, but looking down and seeing something more akin to the countless forms of men he’s masturbated to throughout the years brings a new, less terryfying emotion to whatever this nightmare is.

Gionathan feels butterflies in his chest as he clutches at definitive pecs that now lie on top of it. He bites his lip as the idea that there’s now something you can grab there shoots a wave of static into his mind. Knees almost giving way as he takes time to explore his changes, Gionathan returns to sit in his chair and feel himself up. As he continues to chew on his lip to avoid moaning, his eyes remain shut to allow his imagination to flourish. 

This leaves him unaware of the tan that has begun to tint his changing body. Having not been exposed to sunlight in well over a decade, pasty is almost too generous a word to describe his pale torso. And yet, as his thickening hands trail across his meatier waist and play with a chest still growing weightier, his skin darkens to one naturally sun-kissed. 

Wider palms smearing sweat across an expanding torso, his mind begins to drift. Playing with chest hair as it grows thicker his fingertips almost accidentally come across nipples that have grown extensively as his pecs begins to bulge larger. Beginning to play with them his changes begin to accelerate. His mouth scrunches up as itches begin to burn across his face. Stubble that has been kept off his face from a once-a-week shave rapidly rears its head before it thickens en masse. Sideburns shove themselves wider to cover the whole of his cheeks before expanding under his chin as each follicle surges larger and darkens.

Green eyes flicker brown as Gionovan’s suddenly dark stubble quickly leaks upward, staining his pert blonde coif dirty, then brown, before finally turning as black as the curls that have begun to overtake his chest. Each strand changes as his hands continue to dance and delight in his bulkier body. His mouth scrunches as a mustache he’s never dreamed of growing begins to bulge out of his upper lip. Thicker than the hair on his head as memories of his hairline retreating over the years begin to assert themselves into his memory. Coffee dark eyes twitch while remaining closed, his hands trail up to his neck and come across scratchy stubble as he realizes that something is happening beyond skin deep changes. 

Pausing his reverie, the young man no longer’s eyes open to see a name plate on his desk, Gionovan Clarvallo. “No, tha’s not-” He clutches at his throat as his voice rumbles deeper. Gionovan stands with a start and the sound of the seat of his pants tearing open resounds in the room. He groans and leans on the table as thighs grow wide and his ass expands into quite a powerful cushion. Clenching his stubble hidden jaw he can barely even realize that he lost something when he languished in his changing form. The label young man doesn’t quite apply anymore as smile crinkles crack around his eyes. His mind races once more to find things to hold onto.

He’s Gionovan Clarvallo. He’s lived in this town for most of his life, or no he lived in the city for a while didn’t he? The man groans as two lifetimes crash into each other like a fusion reaction. His studies evaporate to be replaced by prodigious years at culinary school. His gap year fades as recollections of traveling New York City to find hidden gems and expand his palette grow increasingly vivid, and unknowingly vital to who he is. Once more Gionovan feels a rising need to burp. Hand curling into a fist he covers his mouth and he sees dark curls bathe down his fore arm.

The forest of hair that had only just begun to decorate his chest and stomach rapidly begins to thicken to cover every inch of his form as he struggles once more against pressure rising up his throat. Gionovan launches into a fit of belching once more. With each release his body changes further, jungle of chest hair spreading further, expanding and thickening, growing dark enough to completely hide tanned skin beneath it. His whole body grows wider, taller, heavier. Sweat trails down the side of his torso as his wildly increasing haven of pit hair drips with his new heady musk. Pants burst to shreds as his thighs grow to a size that can scarcely be covered while newly hairy shoulders grow bulkier to match his thickening neck and the weighty arms they are charged to maneuver. 

Clutching at his stomach as it expands and grows fluffier with both darkening hair and comfortable weight, Gionovan realizes something. He tastes food more delicious than he’s ever experienced before dancing across his tongue. Flavors unfathomable and unfamiliar make their home in his mouth as his body continues to morph with every heaving release. Pesto sears his sinuses as the waistband of his underwear begins to struggle against his expanding ass and the suddenly monolithic testament to his masculinity bulging in his crotch. Airy gelato cleanses his palate as his stomach begins to hang over said waistband as his legs grow thick enough to send tears in the elastic and curls grow thick enough across them to be a pelt. The aftertaste of rich creamy fresh tomato pasta overwrites more and more of who he once was as memories of his time in the kitchen and traveling the world for new tastes chips away at whatever edges of Jonathan that remain.

As he sits in the office, his office, rubbing at a torso that is rapidly becoming a hairy musclegut, he scratches at his thickening beard as a strange instinct rises as the aftertastes, or memories rather, continue to ephemerally rise. He could cook better than that. It’s why he opened his restaurant after all. To offer nothing but the best to this little town. To help ensure that every inch of the world has to experience the heavenly flavors he’s been so fortunate to enjoy. It’s why he opened his Slice of Italy. Standing with a grunt, there’s a knock on the office door and he realizes that he is almost completely nude. With a gasp, Giovanni clears his throat and calls out, “One minute Romeo!” 

He goes to a cabinet in the corner and pulls out a change of clothes, well-suited to his massive form. He’s learned that a man of his size, and passion, should always keep an outfit on standby, after all it’s impossible to predict what any odd day will hold. Quickly struggling into the clothes he figures it’s about time to go up a size as gets the snug clothes on. Smiling at a picture of himself with the statue out front, Giovanni Cavallo goes to unlock his office door and greet his manager. Romeo smirks knowingly at the restaurant’s owner and executive chef before directing the massive man’s attention to a couple of younger men standing uncomfortably near the entrance.

“Evening Hon. Those two over there are the ones that uh, broke the display.” Giovanni puts his meaty hand on Romeo’s shoulder and with a wink rumbles out, “Thanks Rome. Know I can always count on you.” Matching silver bands appear on the fingers of both men and Romeo rolls his eyes before heading off to manage the front of house before the dinner rush is to begin. Giovanni then turns his attention to the hellions awaiting his reprimanding. Sizing them up he imagines what retribution they are to undergo. They could just pay for damages but where’s the fun in that. After all he was always quite fond of that little guy, almost a spitting image of himself he thinks with a smirk, not nearly as hot though. Flexing involuntarily he meets the pair and they immediately squeal.

The pair toss each other under the bus before Giovanni even has a chance to open his mouth and the massive chef scowls. No, these two need to be taught a lesson. At the clearing of his throat the bickering rats are struck mute and stare up at the owner. The kitchen could use a couple new junior chefs. Imagining the two men before him shaping up to fine young professionals under his tutelage, he has no recourse but to offer they work off the damages, “You boys any good in the kitchen?” Shiftily looking at each other the idea seems easy enough and in no time at all Romeo’s tossed them aprons and they’re in the back of house working up a sweat.

They find themselves more at home prepping vegetables and decorating dishes than they do in their actual homes. Quickly do they become acclimated enough to the kitchen that doing anything else is anathema to them. Their light hair rapidly shades darker and their outfits adapt to become suitable to the jobs they enjoy so much. The pair of once ruffians shift and stretch as their physiques become impressive as Giovanni’s was way back when he was their age. Wandering about his restaurant, the executive greets guests and compliments his staff, driving them to strive even harder to make him proud. 

When he gets to his two newest hires, Alessio and Angelo, Giovanni watches them sprout taller as beards race to thicken and hide their shy smirks from his praise. Patting them on the back both men struggle to focus on their tasks at hand as his attention brings them more satisfaction than they could imagine. Commenting on their impressive figures he offers to show them the ropes at the gym in their free time and the junior chefs make eye contact as their biceps bulge larger. Giovanni laughs heartily, bringing a smile to everyone within earshot as they continue to craft the perfect slice of Italy in this small town. “You boys remind me of when I was younger heh, Keep up the good work!”

With that Giovanni goes to stand sentinel at the entrance and welcome guests in. In lieu of his little standee someone’s gotta be the first smiling face that guests see, and given how smooth nights at Giovanni’s Slice of Italy always are, his presence is superfluous. He’s just happy to be here and every day the titan strives to make sure that every guest and employee is as well.

[magicaldestinyharmony]

When The Stars Align

regressed!duke x wife!female!reader oneshot (? it could be more idk)

Duke Ercan Revaz only ever loved one woman but she no longer exists. And it’s his fault. Well, if he wasn’t the only reason then he surely was a reason. He still remembers the first day he saw you. Standing under the moonlight in a garden looking like a goddess straight out of the founding myths of the empire. He stood, not far behind you, watching. Staring. You stood there in an elegant red dress with a champagne flute in your hand leaving the chaos and noise of the ball behind you. A sad sigh escapes your lips and, for some reason, he longed to hear your voice. At the thought, he freezes. He doesn’t understand the feelings flowing through him. He’s new to this sort of thing. Having spent countless years from one battlefield to another, he has zero experience with women. Another sigh from your alluring lips brings him out of his thoughts. He wonders, What is causing you to sigh so much? He then realizes that you were the woman who just publicly dumped her fiance. Your ex-fiance was a complete bastard. He was expecting orders to eradicate this nuisance to high society but you beat him to it and did a great job of ensuring he would never show his face again. He sees a woman approaching you which he recognizes as Countess Labelle. Countess Labelle calls you and you turn to face her. She must be your mother. he thinks. You leave with the countess. As he stares at your retreating back he feels that he must have you and he will make sure that once he does, you won’t be able to leave him.

Ercan now realizes that he went about making you his wife all wrong. Instead of trying to woo you, he did something that he still regrets. Using his power as a duke, he indirectly places your father in debt and demands that if he gets you as a bride, he will pay the debt off himself. Your father, bless his heart, tried to find other means to pay back the money but you stopped him and accepted the marriage. At the start of your marriage, things were fine. He never embraced you and always kept a distance, thinking that you might not have favourable feelings towards him. Still, you had a nice marriage. Things went downhill when he got sent to battle. You discovered papers with orders to place your father in debt in his study. Without him there to at least try to salvage the situation, your thoughts went wild. He came back to the report that you had tried to escape. He was frantic. Why would you try to leave him? He might indeed have placed you in debt, but he paid them off and also made sure that your family was well off. He found you bound to bed rest by the family doctor. You looked terrible. Pale and bags under your eyes. He got into an argument with you which ended with him confining you to your room. You resisted and your health took a hit. The day you died, Ercan regrets that the last thing he told you was a “Good night” and not “I love you” or anything similar. He woke to the balcony doors being opened. His blood ran cold. He ran outside only to see your disappearing smile over the railings. Ercan went mad. He lost you. He lost you. After the funeral was over, Ercan wished that he wouldn’t wake up again. He would rather die than face a world without you in it. He was surprised to wake up and find out that his wish had come true. Well, kind of. Ercan clenches his fist while he stares out the window of what used to be your shared bedroom. What will become your shared bedroom. I promise, this time I’ll never make the same mistakes again. I'll show you just how much you mean to me. This time, you won’t die in vain.

[bbyobbyo]

Ever since you stopped using his Spotify account in the mornings, you find other ways to mess with your boyfriend.

A short continuation of this fic, but can be read as a standalone.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon, banter, reader and jihoon just have a permanent jam session going on, they’re in love i swear

wc: 857

note: ahhh they’re back!! thank you to everyone who read the first part and gave it love😊 this has been rotting my brain for a while and i originally was playing with this concept for the original but couldn’t pull it together but we’re here now! shoutout to @highvern because it was partly inspired by her fic “Between the Titles” which is such a great read that i highly recommend along with literally everything else she writes!! all the songs featured here are real and from an era of kpop I hold near and dear to my heart so if you recognize any of them, you’re a real one 🥰

Jihoon is not a morning person, never has been. As he sits in the dressing room of the filming studio, he can feel his eyelids getting increasingly heavy. Some of his members are actively sleeping, in fact, and Jihoon knows he’ll be joining them soon if Wonwoo takes any longer in that makeup chair.

Blasting in his ears is his usual Bruno Mars playlist, a sad attempt to try to recover his energy before he knocks out next to Mingyu sleeping on a mat on the floor, but to no avail because his mind slowly slips away until a piercing airhorn noise jolts him awake.

SEVENTEEN TEEN TEEN NEOWANA SAI E

Uhh. This was definitely not his Daily Bruno Mars Mix.

He immediately searches his screen to find out what happened when he finds his answer in the form of a text from you.

[8:18 am] good morning sleepyhead :)

[8:18 am] hope I didnt scare you too bad :)

He scrunches his face up in disbelief, half amused that you managed to catch him off guard with possibly the most annoying wake up song on Seventeen’s discography, and half annoyed at the realization that he must’ve forgotten to cancel your Spotify Jam session from yesterday.

He decides to leave your text on read. After all, he has plenty of time to be petty today. Furiously searching through his library, he queues up a song and before Mingyu can finish singing the first chorus, he smashes the next track button in smug anticipation.

Now Playing: Fxxk U • Gain, Bumkey

And he doesn’t have to wait long before he gets your reply.

[8:20 am] oh i see how it is

Now Playing: This is War • MBLAQ

If Jihoon wasn’t awake before, he definitely is now. Even as he gets called in to do his makeup next, he thinks carefully about his next move.

Now Playing: LOSER • BIGBANG

…

Now Playing: WHO, YOU? • G-DRAGON

An audible scoffs escapes from his lips as he involuntarily tilts his head back in amusement, much to the dismay of his makeup artist who had just started on his foundation. He mutters a shy sorry before resuming his search for a reply. Maybe he needs to take a different approach to this if he hopes to continue having Jam sessions with you in the future.

Now Playing: Whatcha Doin’ Today • 4Minute

As Jihoon eventually discovers, his hopes to change the topic of conversation were in vain as two songs were suddenly queued one after another.

Now Playing: Why Don’t You Know • CHUNG HA, Nucksal

Next in Queue: Mind Your Own Business • Ailee

Jihoon thinks he’s met his match, coming to the realization that he could never out sass the love of his life. But he wasn’t willing to back down so easily either.

Now Playing: I’m so sick • Apink

Next in Queue: Because of you • After School

Your next move nearly sends him to tears.

Now Playing: Excuse Me • AOA

Next in Queue: You Don’t Love Me • Spica

Next in Queue: I ain’t going home tonight • Navi, Geeks

Next in Queue: I Don’t Need a Man • miss A

As he chuckles to himself for what seems like the hundredth time this morning, this newfound form of entertainment suddenly becomes incredibly precious. Although you see each other nearly every day, Jihoon realizes just how much he misses you, talking to you about everything and nothing at all, bantering like you’ve known each other for your entire lives.

Now Playing: Am I too easy? • U-KISS

...

Now Playing: Mystery • Beast

Even though he couldn’t be with you physically, he knew you were enjoying yourself just as much as him on the other side. He could almost picture your smile of satisfaction as you found your next song, knowing that he would appreciate your humor. And appreciate he did, happily tapping away at his screen until his makeup artist puts on his finishing touches and tells him to call the next member.

Now Playing: Gotta Go • CHUNG HA

Next in Queue: I’m Busy • 2NE1

Next in Queue: Plz Don’t Be Sad • HIGHLIGHT

…

Now Playing: Okay Dokey • MINO, ZICO

Little does he know that his members are in the corner snickering at the sight, knowing that only one thing could have their producer smiling like an idiot at his phone the whole morning.

Soon enough, Jihoon and his members get swept up into their schedule involving the filming of various contents for their Youtube Channel, a task that usually takes the entire day if a game is involved. Thankfully, the game allowed for members to go home early, a rare treat considering how competitive his members can get when it comes to shooting content.

After his usual rounds of “good work everyone” to the company staff and his members, he gets ready to see the person who been on his mind (and in his ears) since the morning. Taking out his phone, he queues one last song while exiting the building.

Now Playing: Run to you • SEVENTEEN

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | dating the gamer girl who’s also a streamer

Synopsis ✰ head cannons about how the boys react to finding out that your a well-known twitch streamer

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw!, innocent content of the boys being supportive and shocked boyfriends

★ this is heavily inspired by my gamer girlfriend post consider this the sequel★

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ he has no idea what twitch is or what being a streamer even means

✧₊⁺ he only finds out because you got recognized in public by a very hyper/excited fan

✧₊⁺ almost sucker punches tf out of your fan because he thinks it’s some person trying to harass you

✧₊⁺ you have to hold him back

✧₊⁺ “wait wait, i’m sorry! i came off too strong, i just really love your streams!” the fan apologizes after Sakura completely got the wrong idea

✧₊⁺ “what videos? what’s a stream?”

✧₊⁺ you gave him a brief explanation and left it at that, you were very shy about your streaming career

✧₊⁺ detective sakura mode unlocked!

✧₊⁺ he’s very surprised to see that you have roughly around 50k followers from only uploading minecraft content

✧₊⁺ you stream hardcore minecraft challenges along with building tutorials which your fans love

✧₊⁺ he creates a secret account where he argues with all your haters

✧₊⁺ “you’re builds aren’t even cute” “your face isn’t cute, i wouldn’t talk if i were you”

✧₊⁺ you secretly knew the account was his but found it cute that he was so protective by your media presence

✧₊⁺ watches your streams in secret whenever he has the chance at school

✧₊⁺ “what are you doing on your phone Sakura?” “nothing! don’t worry about it, shut up.”

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ gets extremely over protective when he finds out

✧₊⁺ he doesn’t like your fanboys

✧₊⁺ he cringes whenever you get comments like “can you be my mercy pocket?” “i can carry you”

✧₊⁺ he will respond back by saying “she doesn’t need to get carried by a bronze”

✧₊⁺ he only found your account by accident when he downloaded twitch

✧₊⁺ he’s a little sad you didn’t tell him

✧₊⁺ “why would you hide it from me?” “i wasn’t hiding it, i was just embarrassed”

✧₊⁺ he doesn’t mind whenever some fans come up to you in public

✧₊⁺ he does mind when it’s some weird guy, although they never come up to you since his presence alone scared them off

✧₊⁺ he’s very proud of your accomplishments

✧₊⁺ always congratulates you when you reach a new milestone

✧₊⁺ he becomes one of your twitch mods and blocks every weirdo account whenever he has the chance to watch your streams

✧₊⁺ he never misses one of your competitive streams

✧₊⁺ you participate in some tournaments and he’s literally your biggest hype man

✧₊⁺ “don’t be nervous, you’ll totally win.”

✧₊⁺ has the biggest smile on his face whenever you do win

✧₊⁺ he’s highkey your biggest fan boy and supporter

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ you’re super embarrassed of your streaming career since you have about 5k followers that just love your aesthetic animal crossing content

✧₊⁺ who knew animal crossing would be such a hit for streaming content

✧₊⁺ you’re also a youtuber and you post some mini tutorials on how to create aesthetic shaped ponds

✧₊⁺ he only found out because someone else came to up to you in public in front of him

✧₊⁺ he was geeking the whole time watching you be so nice to a supporter

✧₊⁺ you made him promise he wont watch your streams

✧₊⁺ he keeps that promise but that doesn’t stop him from watching your youtube videos

✧₊⁺ to be fair, you did only say streams and didn’t mention youtube

✧₊⁺ he’s in awe by the cute and nice way you interact with your chat

✧₊⁺ he falls asleep listening to your voice during some of the tutorials

✧₊⁺ doesn’t like your haters

✧₊⁺ he gets annoyed whenever he sees a comment saying “animal crossing isn’t that fun, play a new game”

✧₊⁺ he gets the urge to want to argue back but respects your wishes and doesn’t

✧₊⁺ he does watch some your streaming clips if they get uploaded onto a different platform

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ please you’re kidding yourself if you think he doesn’t know

✧₊⁺ have you met him? he knows everything

✧₊⁺ he found out from the first moment he met you

✧₊⁺ he asked about you along with googling you and found out that you were streamer

✧₊⁺ finds the way you laugh and talk to an online audience with ease to be enchanting

✧₊⁺ he’s incredibly impressed by your ability to be so likeable even through a screen

✧₊⁺ he’s mainly surprised that you don’t stream the sims since that’s a game you two always play together

✧₊⁺ he asks you about it and you explained how it’s just because the sims is a comfort game to you that you rather not “exploit” for views

✧₊⁺ you’re a multi game player so you stream different content and gameplays on a regular basis

✧₊⁺ he’s impressed to see that you’re good at fps games and different styles of games

✧₊⁺ you’re not really shy about your streaming profile

✧₊⁺ you answer any questions he asks while he jots down whatever you said into his note book

✧₊⁺ what he scribbles into his notebook: “my girlfriend is so cool.”

✧₊⁺ you don’t mind if he watches some of your streams which he does

✧₊⁺ he’s an internal fanboy but hides it from you because he doesn’t want to come off as geeky

✧₊⁺ he didn’t watch your streams until you gave him permission and let him know you’re 100% okay with it

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ you told him shortly after the two of you started gaming together

✧₊⁺ he thinks it’s a little funny (in a harmless way) that your a fortnite streamer in general

✧₊⁺ finds your 1v1 streams to be very impressive

✧₊⁺ he loves how happy gaming and streaming makes you

✧₊⁺ gets violent if anyone ever dares or tries to make a joke about you streaming or your gaming

✧₊⁺ he has smacked the back of the Choji’s head after Choji called you a fortnite try-hard loser

✧₊⁺ thinks it’s funny when you openly humble other players who think they’re better than you

✧₊⁺ you don’t do face cam which he’s grateful for since he wants you all for himself

✧₊⁺ it’s game over for him once you do the face reveal post

✧₊⁺ he secretly and silently sulks in a corner after seeing how many online men tried to get at you

✧₊⁺ he uses it as motivation to get better at fortnite (LMAOO you can’t tell me he wouldnt)

✧₊⁺ his logic is that if he’s simply better than every other guy trying to talk you up he’s won

✧₊⁺ despite his little jealousy episodes he’s very confident and secure in your relationship

✧₊⁺ he knows you’d never leave him for some loser in a twitch chat

✧₊⁺ he makes small guest star appearances in your streams

✧₊⁺ your female side audience love him (maybe a little too much sometimes)

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

✧₊⁺ he was already impressed by your gaming skills in general, he’s even more impressed by your streaming content

✧₊⁺ yeah he saw you play in person but seeing a full screen gameplay from your perspective was mesmerizing to him

✧₊⁺ he loved to tune into your content

✧₊⁺ he would also argue with your haters online

✧₊⁺ he especially argued with the sexist comments

✧₊⁺ he 100% got more mad than you did when it came to guys in the comments/chat shit talking you for being a girl

✧₊⁺ “who cares if you’re a girl, they’re just mad you’d still kick their ass.”

✧₊⁺ “wtv man, keep yapping. she’ll definitely smoke you in a 1v1”

✧₊⁺ he’ll leave hate comments on every guys posts who have ever insulted you

✧₊⁺ be glad he happens to also have hands in person to back up what his mouth runs

✧₊⁺ he fully supports your choices

✧₊⁺ you actually started streaming after you two started dating

✧₊⁺ he was the one who talked you into uploading your content and to start live streaming it

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : very angsty ; fluffy in the beginning just to break everyone's hearts a little bit more ; death of a family member ; famous nana cliffhanger ; Word Count : 5.2k Request : @lovesunshinefelix : Write more angst 😵‍💫 GIVE ME THE ANGST 😭🧎‍♀️ A/N : Of course! Anything for you bestie!! This one might be a little bit self indulgent just slightly, but it's definitely gonna be sad. I love making angsty Felix fics!

“One iced americano, please.”

“Okay, and what’s the name for the order?” 

“Lee Felix.” 

“Mmn… It should be done in just a moment.”

“Thank you.”

Such a short interaction, but that’s how it all began. You were simply the barista at the coffee shop next door to the office, but in a matter of seconds, you had become so much more to him. Your sweet smile and the fairy lights that twinkled in your eyes as you looked at him. He was absolutely enamored by you. 

The craziest part was that he didn’t even like coffee that much, he had just been craving the taste of the drink. Is that why it felt all the more serious to him? Like it had been fate that brought him to you in the first place, but now it was you that kept bringing him back. 

“One iced americano, please.” 

“The name for the order?” 

“It’s Lee Felix.” 

“Alrighty, it should be done soon.” 

“I’ll wait here.” 

He wondered if you’d remember him if he came in every day. Would you remember his order or his name? Would you remember the way he’d smile at you whenever you spoke? Would you remember anything about him, or was he just another customer that you probably forgot about once the work day was done? 

He wanted it to be like that, he wanted to be a customer that you looked forward to seeing. He wanted your head to lift with every ring of the bell when the shop door would open. He wanted you to wait for his appearance, to see you smile when he finally came in. He wanted you to recognize him. 

“One iced-“ 

“Americano? Is it for a Lee Felix?” 

“Hm… Maybe I should switch up my order?” 

“It’s almost been two weeks, I can’t imagine having an iced americano every single day for that long.” 

“Well, what would you recommend?” 

“I’m not sure… I don’t really drink coffee.” 

“That’s ironic. You don’t drink anything here?” 

“Does the free water count?” 

“I’ll take a free water then.” 

It was the first time he had actually talked to you, but it was also the first time you had said his name in any way other than letting him know that his order was done, it was the first time that you had said his order without his having to really say anything at all. It was the proof that he needed to know that he was on the right track, he just had to keep going. 

You had laughed that day too, not one of those fake laughs that he had heard you give the other guys that would try to flirt with you… It was a genuine laugh, the sound so beautiful that it was on a constant loop in his head for the rest of the day. He couldn’t get you off of his mind, but he didn’t want to rush things. Even if he felt that things were going perfectly, he wanted you to feel the same way. 

“Two free waters and a croffle, please.” 

“Really changing it up now, are we? Are you bringing a date?” 

“Ah… Not exactly…” 

“Good, because I don’t think a woman would be very impressed with free water for a drink.” 

“But the woman doesn’t drink anything on the menu. I’m really going out on a limb here with the croffle.” 

“You can never go wrong with a croffle, they’re delicious. Why would you invite this woman to the coffee shop if you know she doesn’t like anything on the menu though?”

“Because this is the only place I get to see her, and I’m too shy to ask her for her number, so I just wanted to see if she wanted to have some free water and share a croffle with me.” 

“Oh… Is she here already?” 

“I’m looking at her…” 

He could remember vividly the way you froze, the way it felt when his stomach began its descent, thinking that you would turn him down. It took you so long to say anything, he wondered if he had completely blown it by being so forward. He had never been so nervous in his life, but then that smile appeared on your face and you let out the most beautiful laugh, the sound tinged with a certain shyness that he had never read from you before. Did he make you as shy as you made him?

Sitting across the table from you, he could feel it, you were meant for him and he was meant for you. He was a perfect mix of so many emotions, nervousness, shyness, happiness, he was everything balled up into one, but it made him feel alive. It was like he was standing on stage and performing for all of STAY, except there was no setlist, there was no particular script or order that he had to follow… And it was only your eyes on him… But it was just as amazing, if not more, because you were looking at him and only him, and you were there with just him. He was all yours, and you were all his. 

///

“If you could have your wedding anywhere in the world, where would it be?” He asked as you both laid on the blanket beneath the cherry blossom trees that were in full bloom. It was beautiful, the perfect spot for a date, although most people would say that he didn’t have to try as hard now that it’s been 5 months since the two of you have been together. He didn’t believe them though, because every single time he took you somewhere new, somewhere more beautiful than the last, your eyes would light up and that adorable smile would stretch across your face, and he’d question why he would give that up. 

You hummed in thought, and he wondered what your mind looked like right now. Were images of your dream wedding playing out behind your closed eyes? Was he the one standing across from you in those thoughts, dressed in a suit, tears in his eyes as he watched the woman of his dreams walk down the aisle to meet him at the end? “I think… Hmm… Well, I don’t really mind much, actually. As long as I’m there with the person that I love, that I want to spend the rest of my life with… The place doesn’t matter much at all.” How could you be so amazing? He asked himself that every single day. “What about you? Where would your dream wedding be?” 

He hummed softly, rolling over onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow, staring down at you with the most loving eyes. He knew for a fact that he had never loved someone as much as he loves you, and it was only bound to get stronger. “I’m sure that a lot of people would think that I’d want to get married on the beach somewhere in Australia since that’s where I’m from… But I feel like the beach is rather cliche, it gets done too much.” 

“I like the beach…” You murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, your fingers lingering against his cheek. “I think it would make for some beautiful pictures, don’t you?” He hadn’t exactly thought about it that way, but now that he heard your input, it was like his entire view had been changed. 

“The beach it’ll be then.” He said quite enthusiastically, his cheeks still flushed from where you had touched him. You just had the ability to send fire coursing through his veins and he loved the feeling of it, the warmth that it brought. 

You giggled softly, rolling your eyes at the sudden switch up. “What’s with the serious questions all of a sudden? Do you plan on getting married some time soon? You have to invite me to the wedding.” You joked, and he stuck his tongue out at you before dipping down and pressing his lips to yours. 

“The only wedding I want is the one where you’re meeting me at the end of the aisle.” He said much softer now, even his breaths were so quiet it was almost like he wasn’t breathing at all. “We have time though… I just wanted a general idea of what you’d want.” 

“Felix…” His name was like a breath from your lips, so gentle, so light that the winds that shook the blossoms off the trees would be able to pick it up and carry it away. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to think too hard about it just now. I’ll make sure everything is perfect for you when the day comes.” 

“You’re crazy…” You murmured, and maybe he was. Maybe he was out of his damn mind to be planning a wedding with a girl that he had met at a coffee shop only five months ago. But to him it felt right, it felt like the only thing to do. He knew that all he wanted was you anyway, and he didn’t want to hide the way he felt for you. He wanted you to know that you were the only person he ever wanted in his life. 

“Mm… Maybe… You smell like coffee beans…” He teased, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath. “Is that… French Roast? Maybe… with a hint of vanilla?” 

You squealed, playfully pushing against his shoulders as you tried to squirm free. “Stop it! You’re the one who didn’t want to wait for me to go home and change when I got off!” You defended, but he thought it was so damn adorable. 

“I just like to see you, I didn’t want to wait!” He jokingly whined, dropping on top of you completely, his face still hidden, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “You smell amazing, absolutely delicious, my coffee queen.” 

///

“Would you rather have your body and Bbokaris head, or the other way around?” You asked one night as you sat beside him on the couch. The question was most likely nothing more than a joke, but he wanted you to know that he listened to and thought about everything that you said, so he paused the movie that was playing on the tv and turned his body entirely toward you. 

“Would you still love me regardless of what my answer is?” He quizzed, his eyes searching deeply into yours for the answer, and you nodded your head so firmly that he knew you weren’t lying. You’d love him no matter what, and he would love you just the same. “I think I’d rather have his head, I don’t want to be any shorter… Or… Am I just a regular sized version of Bbokari? Is he me sized or am I him sized?” 

You snorted at the questions, your laughter still his most favorite sound in the entire world. He made a goal to make you laugh at least twice a day, if not more. “It would be the size of your skzoo plushy. It would be so cute though, wouldn’t it?! I could just carry you around with me everywhere I go! I’d never have to miss you!” 

Even though you were still giggling, your words made his heart flutter. Did you miss him when he wasn’t around? Did your heart ache like his whenever there was distance between the two of you? He always tried not to be too clingy. “You never have to miss me now, just text me and I’ll come to you always.” He draped his arm over your shoulder, tugging you closer to his side as he pressed a small kiss to your temple. 

“You have so much work to do, I don’t like bothering you. I would never call you away from practice or recording just to see you… Even if I want to.” You looked up at him, your smile pushing your cheeks up and squinting your eyes. Your eyes… He wanted to get lost in them for hours and hours, he wanted to live in them just for a moment, to see the world the way you do. What made you angry? What made you sad? He’s been with you for seven months now and he’s never seen you anything but happy. Was it because you were with him? Did he make all of your fears, your worries, your anger… Did he make it disappear? 

“I think even if I had Bbokari body I’d be in practice… Can you imagine?” Your head fell back once more as your laughter filled the room, he never wanted to stop hearing it. “Wait… Would my head shrink too, or would my head stay normal sized? I have so many questions!” 

You were laughing even harder now, wheezing even as you breathlessly tried to talk through fits of giggles. “Your normal head… Definitely… It would be so top heavy on the tiny body… Oh my gosh… Just picturing it… The Maniac move… With the…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, bursting into a new fit of laughter, and now his mind was filled with the same image, and you both were laughing. 

It was nice to have someone to just laugh with, to goof around with. He felt so normal with you, he could have fun, he could be truly happy when you were beside him. That’s why he couldn’t let you go, why he kept thinking to a time somewhere in the future where you and him would both be on the beach in Australia, surrounded by your families and your friends, and he’d slip a ring onto your finger and promise himself to you for the rest of forever. 

///

“When was the last time I told you I loved you?” Felix asked over the phone, trying not to speak too loud. Sharing a hotel room wasn’t exactly hard, but he tried to be as respectful as possible to the guys who were trying to sleep while also trying to talk to you as much as he could. Time zones were always a pain in the ass, but they’re even worse now considering he couldn’t just not talk to you while he was away. 

“About five seconds ago.” You whispered, although there was no need for you to, he had your voice coming through his headphone so none of the other guys would hear you. “It’s so early in the morning for you… Aren’t you tired? I don’t want to keep you up all night.” 

“Mm… It’s worth it to talk to you.” He didn’t care if he was tired, he’d just sleep while getting his hair and makeup done, or he’d sleep in the car on the way to the next venue. “Have you eaten yet?” He quickly tried to change the subject, truthfully, he just wanted to hear you talk. He loved listening to you speak, he could lay in the hotel bed for hours with your sweet whispers filling his ears. 

“Not yet… I’m trying to think of what to eat.” The sound of your kitchen cabinets squeaking was heard and he chuckled softly, making a mental note to try to fix them or at least put some oil on the hinges so they wouldn’t be as loud. “Think I might just have a ramen bowl. It’s not as fun to do the dishes when I don’t have my designated drier.” 

Everything that the two of you did together was fun, it didn’t matter what it was. Whether you were going on dates or if it was something as mundane as doing the dishes or the laundry, if you were doing it together, that’s what made it enjoyable. “Well just let the dishes build up and we’ll have so much fun washing them together once I get back.” He teased, and he could just see the eye roll that came along with your soft snort as you tried to stifle your laughter. 

“I don’t think my sink is big enough for that many dishes.” You said between giggles, but your laughter was short lived as you let out a quiet sigh. “I miss you… So much…” Your voice was quieter now, almost to the point that he couldn’t hear you, and the only reason he could is thanks to the headphones. “Bbokari doesn’t hug me back the way you do… The bed is so empty and cold on your side… And the clothes that you left me are starting to lose your scent.” 

He couldn’t be more thankful that the two other guys in the room were already asleep because he could feel the tears pricking at his eyes as he listened to you. Felix missed you just as much, and he considered himself to be lucky because he wasn’t in a house that would feel so lonely if the roles were reversed. “I know, babe. I’ll be home soon, just wait for me. I miss you too… So much. I wish I could have snuck you here with me, I wish you would have packed yourself in my suitcase. We wouldn’t have to miss each other at all.” 

Now you both were crying, and he got up out of the bed as quietly as he could to make his way to the bathroom just to make sure he didn’t wake anyone up with his sniffling. “I love you, Lix…” Hearing you say it, no matter how many times he heard it, it was always like the first time. His heart would flutter and he’d feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and while this time was no different, there was an extra feeling of sadness that came along with it. 

“I love you too, babe… Don’t cry anymore, please? You’re too beautiful to cry… Smile for me, okay? And just always remember, I’m not gone forever, I’ll always come home to you.” 

///

2 months later and he was finally heading back home to you. The night before the flight he had stayed up just to talk to you on the phone, it sounded like you were crying again, but he assumed that the tears you were shedding were tears of happiness that he’d finally be returning to you. He’d be lying if he tried to say that he hadn’t shed a few tears himself at the thought of finally being able to hold you and kiss you again. 

He slept through the entire plane ride, and he hadn’t told you what time he’d be landing because he wanted to surprise you by showing up at your work. He wouldn’t say that he’s a hopeless romantic, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how romantic it would be to show up at your work with a bouquet of flowers. He could already see the shy little smile that would spread across your face, the flustered look in your eyes when you saw him walk through the door. 

When the plane finally landed, his excitement really kicked in. He didn’t want to wait to take his things back to the dorms, he didn’t even care to change his clothes or check to see how he looked. All he could think about was you. So he had the guys take all of his bags back to the dorms and he asked to be taken straight to the little coffee shop right beside the office… after stopping by a flower shop first though. 

“One iced americano, please.” His voice was cheerful as he practically waltzed through the door, the tiny bell above his head ringing out and announcing his entrance. The bouquet was hidden behind his back and he couldn’t help but smile wide as he looked around at the familiar scenery… They hadn’t changed anything in the months that he had been gone. 

“She’s not here.” One of the employees said, and Felix didn’t know whether to feel disappointed, humiliated, or both. He was sure that you would be there, you always worked on the weekdays, and it’s not like you had said anything about having your schedule changed. Maybe he should have let you know that he was on his way to the shop just so that you could have let him know that you weren’t there. 

“Oh… Well… Did her schedule change?” He asked rather sheepishly, and the girl behind the counter cocked her head to the side, her eyebrow raising. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? You didn’t fire her, did you?!” 

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” The girl leaned across the counter, and there was a look in her eye that made it clear to him that she found some kind of enjoyment in this, but he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. “She went home. And I’m not talking about down the street. I mean, she hopped on a plane and went home. She was in a rush too.” 

The flowers fell to the floor, and he felt that he was going to be next if he didn’t keep himself steady against the counter. You… You didn’t even live in Korea… And you hadn’t told him that at all. He wouldn’t have even minded, as long as he knew that you’d always be his… But you just left. You left without saying anything to him. You left without warning, without reason. He didn’t even know what to do. 

For a moment, the world froze, time seemed to stop entirely, his mind reeling with what he could do, what he should do. Was he supposed to call you? Would you even answer him? Were you trying to run away from him? Had he done something wrong? He just couldn’t understand what he had done to make you leave without a message, a call… You had given him nothing when he wanted to give you everything. It wasn’t fair. Was he too clingy? Why didn’t you just talk to him? He would have done anything to just keep you, he would have changed completely if it meant having you still. 

“If you want to talk about it, I-“ The girl began, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone if it wasn’t you. She didn’t have the answers, she couldn’t tell him what he needed to know. He stormed out of the shop, taking a deep breath, the cold air catching in his throat and causing it to burn. He didn’t want to cry, but it seemed inevitable as the chill caught on the dampened streaks that coated his cheeks. Was there someone else? What was he to you that you could just give up so easily? How could you walk away without even a glance back, a second thought? He couldn’t let you do this, he just couldn’t. He was going to get an answer, whether you planned on giving it to him or not.

///

“Tell me more about your time in Korea. Tell me about that boy you met.” Your grandmother said hoarsely, her frail hand reaching out to grab yours. “You smile when you talk about him. I like seeing you smile.” 

“Gran… You really need to rest now.” You whispered, holding her hand in both of yours to try to warm it up. She always felt so cold now. “I’ll tell you all about it, I’ll tell you all about him when you wake up. I’ll be here.” Your thumb brushed along her knuckles, her skin wrinkled and thin, but to hold her hand was such a comforting thing, to be there beside her. 

She didn’t argue, she simply settled against her pillow, using her free hand to pull up her blanket a little higher as she kept her other hand between yours. She was weak, she was sick, and when you had gotten the call from your father that she was being moved from the hospital and being put into hospice, there was nothing that would keep you from being by her side. 

It was late, 11 o’clock at night, a little past that even, and everyone had gone to bed in their respective guest rooms. Everyone but you, still jet lagged and running on Korean time. You were wide awake, and you knew that a part of you refused to fall asleep just so that you’d have a little more time with your grandmother, even if it was just sitting beside her while she was sleeping. It might be all the time you have left with her, and a part of you felt guilty for being gone the past year, before she got really sick, before things came to this. You knew that she would have wanted you to live your life though, to find happiness, to find someone that you loved, someone who loved you back just as much. And you had found that, you had found all of those things in Felix, and you felt terrible for leaving the way you did, but you were in such a hurry, you were hoping he’d understand. 

11:56pm, four minutes to midnight and your phone rang on the nightstand table beside your grandmother’s bed. Felixs name was at the top of the screen and you quickly answered it, taking one last look at your grandmother before leaving the room to stand in the hallway, not wanting to risk waking her up while talking to him. “Lix…” You sighed out his name, and there was a sense of relief being kept at bay long enough for you to hear his voice, and you knew that once you did, you’d feel slightly better. 

“You left.” He began, and that relief never set in, instead there was just dread and more guilt stacked on top of the already existing emotion. “An entire year, and I didn’t even hear it from you, I heard it from one of your coworkers that you don’t even live here… And the worst part is that I didn’t even hear about it until you were already gone.” 

“I know that you’re angry, you have every right to be… But can you just listen to me, please?” You begged as quietly as you could, leaning against the wall in the hallway and slowly sinking to the floor. 

“I do have the right to be angry, and I won’t listen. You had almost 365 days for me to sit and listen to you so that maybe I’d understand what you did… But not now. It’s too late for explanations and I don’t want to hear your excuses either.” 

He sounded so angry, you had never heard him get mad before, and while you would have gotten angry right back, you were too busy being devastated. You needed him, you needed him more than anything right now, but he wasn’t even listening to you. On top of being sad, you were confused, you did live in Korea, just because you weren’t originally from there didn’t mean that you weren’t living there. “Why did you call… If you’re just going to yell at me and not listen to what I have to say… Why would you call me?” 

“You basically walked out on me… No… You did worse… You left the damn country. You’ve broken me, I can’t believe you’re the one even crying right now.” You clasped your hand over your mouth to try to muffle the sound of your sobs just so he wouldn’t point them out. “You know what… I don’t have anything else to say to you. I hope you enjoyed your year, you can go tell everyone about how you broke my heart, I’m sure you’ll be real popular for that. Bye.” You didn’t know what the hell he was on about, you didn’t know where the assumptions even came from, but they only managed to hurt worse. 

You were left in silence, your heart in shambles as you sat in the dark hallway, the only light coming from the cracked bathroom door at the end of the hall. You were shrouded in sadness, you had just lost the love of your life, the man that you planned on spending the rest of your life with, and you were about to lose your grandmother. Was there anything else that life would throw at you? 

///

It had been a week since the phone call, and while he had been angry then, the anger had slowly worn off and turned into a sadness spurred by the loneliness that he felt without you there. Hell, he would have been fine just talking to you on the phone, hearing your voice or seeing you through a video call. There was too much shame though, too much regret. He had lost his temper with you, and while the call had initially been to figure out why you had left, he hadn’t even let you talk long enough to tell him. 

He tried to not let it bother him, he tried to focus his mind on anything else, but whenever he’d go to the office, he’d have to go past the little coffee shop and it was a constant reminder of you, of when things had first begun. He felt like a fool, an absolute idiot, and now he didn’t even know how you were doing. He still loved you, and he wanted nothing more than to tell you those three words and hear them back, but now he was too scared to even try to contact you. 

So he watched your social accounts, waiting to see an update of any kind. You hadn’t blocked him, which was either a good sign, or a sign that you hadn’t been online in a while and he didn’t know how to feel about that thought. The last post you had made was from a week before he had left for tour, a picture of the two of you sitting at your table in the coffee shop, sharing a croffle with your free waters, a perfect recreation of your first date. 

His notifications were on for whenever you did post, just so that he could be the first person to like the picture or an update, but it had been so long since you posted that he rarely even checked the notifications to see if it was you. Today had been a rare occurrence where he had already been looking at his phone when you did post, and while it was only an instagram story update, he immediately clicked on it. 

“I’ll miss you Gran… I love you so much.” The text read under a picture of an older woman, her eyes wrinkled in the corners, a sign that she smiled a lot, and her smile was just like yours, he could see it in the picture. She was a happy woman, he could tell that she was loved, and that she had loved just as much. As he looked at the picture longer though, it set in, the realization… You hadn’t left him, not because you wanted to… You had to go home, you had to be there for her, for your family… And he had gotten angry with you for that… He hadn’t even let you explain. 

“Oh… Fuck!” He hissed, quickly closing out of instagram and opening his phone, his thumb hovering over your contact. He wasn’t sure how he’d go about apologizing, he didn’t know how the phone call would go even if you did answer, but he had to try. He had to at least say sorry if nothing else, so he called you, and he waited for it to go to voicemail, but then he heard silence… and then a shaky breath… You were crying. “Y/N… Babe… Are you there?” 

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@felixluvr915 @wordsofkpop @kayleigh-28 @szkstay @spnwinchestersd @fleatree @yehsehneeah @vampcharxter @iloveksmohsomuch @lvlnijiro @neteyamsmate4life @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @delululi @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @karlitaburrito @laylasbunbunny @chimicurri-a @bandolls

[baronessblixen]

Asking For Miracles

Merry Christmas, @katebeckets! I'm your PoangPal Secret Santa, and as I am mostly a writer, you're getting a fic 😁 You said you were enraged that we didn't get to see Mulder and Scully reunite at the end of "Redux II" (same, btw). So I wrote a scene where Scully tells him that she's in remission. It's angsty - but of course, it has a happy end. I hope you like it!

(Here's the AO3 Link)

@poangsecretsanta @today-in-fic

“Mulder, I know it’s late, but I- I need to see you.”

The words Scully left on his answering machine still ring in his ears, even half an hour after he first heard them. By the time Mulder arrives at the hospital, his legs are like lead and feel as if he’s just finished a marathon. Every step he takes is pure agony; if only he could turn around and run. That, of course, is not an option. Not when Scully asked for him. 

Mulder enters the hospital lobby, the place as familiar as his own home by now. He nods at Jeff, the doorman, and he nods back at him. Maybe he recognizes Mulder, or he has compassion for every sad soul that passes by.

He stops in front of the elevator, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket. An elderly woman standing next to him eyes him wearily when he presses the elevator button twice more. He’s grateful she’s not making conversation as they step inside. His thoughts are loud, screaming at him. They have been ever since Scully’s phone call - another one he missed. The sound of her suppressed tears is too familiar; it already haunts his nightmares.

It’s late. The hospital is deserted – save for the elderly woman, who’s clinging to her purse, staying with him on the elevator until they reach the oncology ward. They share a silent look, pain evident in their movements as they set out in opposite directions. 

A phone call late at night is never good news. Scully must have called him just after 9 p.m. He grabbed his jacket as soon as he heard it, not even caring if it – or he – smelled bad. Scully is all that matters. 

Yet, now that he’s here, he slows down. The closer he gets to her room, the smaller and heavier his steps become. As long as he’s out here, and as long as he hasn’t looked into her eyes, and heard what she has to say, he can pretend. He can pretend the disease isn’t taking her life, cutting it way too short.

He passes room after room, getting closer to the truth. For once, Mulder doesn’t want it. He wants the miracle, the fantasy. From somewhere he hears music. Or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s an older song, melancholic. A woman singing about wishing she had a river she could skate away on. Mulder thinks it’s a Christmas song. Who plays Christmas music in the middle of the year? He considers telling Scully about it, hoping it will make her smile. 

It’s no surprise that he hates hospitals. He’s hated them long before Scully got sick, but not always. The first time he remembers being in one was when he was a toddler, just about three years old. On his first visit, he was apprehensive. He knew the concept of hospitals from books; big, white rooms with doctors looking like angels, sometimes healing, sometimes taking people to heaven. That’s how his grandmother Mulder had described it to him when he’d asked. 

The angels, his grandmother had explained, too, had taken good care of his mother and his sister. As a new big brother, he had to know these things. It was his time to be brave. Just like now, he thinks, as his shoes squeak against the linoleum. Back then, his much smaller feet had shuffled along, trying to keep up with his father, who was holding his hand in his large, steady grip. Before that day, Mulder can’t remember his father ever holding his hand.

The room Mulder remembers is filled with a sunny warmth, despite it being November. What are the chances of it having been a sunny day? But that’s how he remembers it. Just like he remembers the soft smile on his mother’s face and the way he had to stand on tiptoe to see Samantha and her squishy face. Seeing her cemented his fate; he was a big brother and he would look after her forever. Only that forever had been taken away from them. Much like last night when he lost her again. No matter what he does, he keeps losing.

The memory ends there. In the following years, hospital walls became tainted. There was blood and screaming. Samantha broke her collarbone and Mulder broke his arm. His grandmother died; the angels she’d believed in taking her away. The memories are strung together like a pearl necklace in his mind; one painful memory after another. An endless circle. Now, there is another memory to add.

He stops in front of Scully’s hospital room. All is quiet. The music has stopped. His heart, however, hasn’t. It’s thumping steadily, loudly. So loud in fact that he wonders if Scully can hear it through the closed door. He closes his eyes and knocks.

“Come in,” Scully’s muffled voice says and so, finally, he does. His eyes find hers the second he steps inside. Her face is puffy - puffier than he’s seen it in weeks. The hollowness for once hidden. How many tears has she cried without him here? She throws him a small, shaky smile. A laugh falls from her lips that sounds more like a hiccup.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Mulder says, flinching when he realizes that’s a lie. He may have driven to the hospital as fast as he could, but he took his time arriving. 

“I thought you should hear it first,” she says, sniffing. She grabs a tissue out of a half-empty box and blows her nose. “This is ridiculous,” she adds, avoiding his eyes. “I just- I called you first when I- and you… you were the first person I wanted to call when I found out.”

Blood rushes in his ears, his temples throb; this is the last moment before he knows. Once she says it - once the words are out there - they can’t be taken back. It will be real.

“They did more tests. I- the last PET scan showed no improvement and I-,” she trails off and Mulder’s knees buckle. No improvement. There’s no cure for this cancer, just like Scully said months ago when she asked him to come to the hospital for the first time. No cure, no improvement. There’s only one way this can end. He wants to cover his ears; it can’t be true if he doesn’t hear it, or see it. 

“I wasn’t ready to accept that,” she goes on, her voice steady. She glances at him as if waiting for him to say something. It’s not like him to remain quiet, but what is there to say? He wants to get on his knees and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in. “So I asked for more tests. When you’re dying, doctors will do whatever you ask of them.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Mulder mumbles and Scully cracks a smile.

“We did another PET scan, among other things, and Mulder- I don’t know why is this so difficult to say.” Another hollow laugh from her and he can no longer keep his hurt in. It expels from his mouth as his lips begin to quiver. Scully’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, reaching out her hand and he’s too weak to deny her, to deny himself. Her skin is as soft as ever, her touch as assuring as it’s always been. He’s crying openly now, weeping. The tears are blurring his vision, but he sees what’s important: her in the hospital bed, smiling up at him.

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he says with a sob, trying to compose himself. He thinks of his father, of the way he watched him dismissively the night his grandmother died. When Mulder, at ten years old, had wiped his tears away with the sleeve of this sweater, he had asked his father why he wasn’t crying. Wasn’t he sad? His father hadn’t replied and only stared at him before he’d wandered off.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Mulder,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Sit down.” When he doesn’t, she tugs more strongly. “Sit. Please.” He does, his hands folded in his lap as if waiting to start a prayer.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she says softly.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be. I should have started with the most important news,��� she says, waiting. He knows she wants him to look at her. He braces himself before he lifts his eyes to hers. Hers are brimming with tears, just like his own.

“My cancer has gone into remission.”

Mulder stares at her, not understanding. These are the words he wants to hear. Remission. Cured. Yet, he can’t believe them.

“You believe everything but not this?” she teases, her voice shaky.

“You’re- and the cancer? It’s- it’s.” He doesn’t know what to say. How do you describe a miracle? It just is.

“Like I’ve been trying to say, I couldn’t accept that there was no improvement. My mother… my mother and I prayed together and then I knew I couldn’t give up. I asked for another PET scan and more blood tests. Mulder, I don’t know what… something changed. Whatever it is, whether it’s the chip or, or-”

“You’re in remission,” he repeats, his brain finally catching up. She nods.

“I’m in remission. The PET scan shows great improvement. The tumor is shrinking.”

“I can’t- it’s shrinking? You’ll be fine?” He reaches for her other hand, needing to feel her. Again, she nods, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. Mulder stares at her, watches her, and sees his whole future. Their future. Together. His lips quiver again, but this time from joy. Scully nods, understanding him without a single word spoken.

“Come here,” he says, desperate. He lets go of her hands and engulfs her in his arms. Their positions on the bed are awkward, but they make it work. His heart thumps against her chest, and he feels hers, too. He doesn’t care if it was the chip or a miracle. For once, he doesn’t care about uncovering a secret truth. He just wants to hold her in his arms and have her by his side for as long as she wants to be.

“Will you stay?” she asks into his neck. Her lips are warm and wet and her touch brings him back into the here and now.

“I’ll stay,” he says. He’ll stay as long as she will endure him in her hospital room.

“I need to call my family,” she whispers and he loosens his grip on her. Her face is as wet as his own feels and he wipes at her eyes with his thumb. Her blue eyes are almost translucent and he’s in fear of losing himself in them. Instead, he finds himself nodding along, reaching for the cell phone on her bedside table and handing it to her.

“Tell them right away,” Mulder says. “Say you have good news.” He smiles sheepishly. She doesn’t need to know about what he’s gone through in between her call and her breaking the news to him. Still, he’d like Mrs. Scully and Bill Jr. to know what they’re in for so they won’t have to worry anymore. There’s been too much heartbreak already. Scully nods at him, new tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Mulder muses and Scully’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s not Christmas,” she says with a chuckle and he takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. She lets him. He marvels at their laced hands, remembering the song from earlier. He hopes the woman found a river to skate away on. He hopes she found her happiness somewhere along the way. Or maybe what she was looking for was right in front of her eyes the whole time. He knows what’s that like. 

Mulder lifts his head and grins at her, falling deeper in love with her, allowing himself the full force of his emotions for once. The skepticism in her expression lets him know that she’s about to call him crazy. Or she would if this weren’t the exact moment her mother picks up the phone.

“Mom?” she says, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Mulder squeezes her fingers to remind her he’s here with her. “I have something to tell you-…,” Scully goes on and looks at Mulder. There are so many things unspoken between them, and so many possibilities now for their future. 

“It’s good news.”

[localtelephonebooth]

Thoughts on Kieran’s relationship with Ogerpon as a previously obsessive teenager:

(I did not proof read this. I just woke up, had the urge, and now it’s here.)

Kieran, to me, is a very relatable character. He is a shy, and quiet teenager in a small town. He lacks friendships and possibly meaningful connections with those who do spend time with him. He’s probably isolated due to the fact that he lacks a phone. Any friends he does make are likely school based only. So, Kieran latches on to anything he can to feel less alone in life. And of course he latches onto Ogerpon. Ogerpon is just like him. A sad “monster” all isolated and alone in the mountains. I’m certain that Kieran has fantasized about meeting Ogerpon and getting into wild adventures with her. I did the same thing with characters I enjoyed.

Princess Luna, for example (sorry to whiplash anyone with that), was a character I heavily related to. She was alone and isolated due to her previous actions. She struggled with fitting in and having a healthy relationship with her sister for awhile. To say I didn’t form an obsession with a character who understood my feelings would be a lie. I think Kieran is the same.

He became obsessed with Ogerpon. He become obsessed with the ideas he crafted of him and Ogerpon. In a way, that fantasy was VERY real to him. So when we come around and lie about meeting Ogerpon, and inevitably become friends with her behind his back, of course he freaks out! We stole his fantasy of him and Ogerpon! And that’s the key point here that people tend to not realize. We didn’t steal Ogerpon from Kieran, we just stole his fantasy and made it our reality.

With my obsession with princess Luna (again, whiplash), if anyone said they loved princess Luna it was a fucking attack on me. Princess Luna was my best friend, and she could only love me! Everyone else was just a jealous thief.

As an adult looking back on this mindset, it’s horribly embarrassing. It’s a mindset I carried into my real life, when I actually started making friends, that ruined so much for me. I lost friends because I was so angry that my fantasies were not reciprocated. I really do think Kieran does the same. He grows sad and frustrated over what happened with Ogerpon. His fantasy is just a fantasy, and that’s fucking with him. So naturally, he finds a new fantasy to, hopefully in his mind, make a reality. And so he chose battling and winning against you. The thing we used to “steal” Ogerpon away from him (Even though Kieran technically suggested battling for Ogerpon, I don’t doubt he used it to rationalize why she didn’t want to come with him). To him, being the best battler will solve everything. Kieran will get his revenge, he’ll finally be recognized, everyone can’t lie to him because they fear or admire him, and he’ll prove to Ogerpon he was the right choice.

.

Now, I want to say something about Kieran. A detail that, for whatever reason, people don’t like to acknowledge: He’s just a kid.

I’m not saying “He’s a widdle baby. He can do no harm!” No, Kieran’s an asshole. He became a bully. I can have empathy for his emotions, but not excuse his actions. He’s a dumb and entitled teenager with issues. And, quite obviously, he doesn’t really have a way to deal with his issues in a healthy manner (seriously, his school is based solely on battling. Anyone who’s going or gone to a specialized school can understand how toxic people can get in that type of environment. And don’t even get me started on the incompetence of the adults in Kieran’s school).

Kieran is a teenage boy growing up right now. He’s got a lot to work through, and a lot of people he’s gotta confront about his behavior. He was an asshole, a bully, and genuinely a bad person for minute. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t growing past that. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve recognition for his growth. You can recognize someone has changed and not forgive them.

Kieran is a really intriguing character and holds a valuable lesson in obsession. And I really wish people would recognize that he’s not just an irredeemable prick or an innocent little guy. He’s a kid learning. He’s going to make really stupid and bad mistakes. Just like how I, and probably you reading this, did.

Anyways, hopefully we see him interact with the Area Zero buddies. I think those three have amazing lessons that Kieran can learn from. Maybe Kieran can teach them a few things too!

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 3)

18+ plus only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult themes, angst, discussions of alcohol consumption, etc

Thank you all so much for your patience while I was out of town…I love you and never intentionally keep you waiting! You’re my babies!! ❤️❤️

“Why am I always the last to know everything?” Sam slips into Josh’s dressing room, shirtless and as always, slapping along on two bare feet “Is it because I’m the youngest, or are you just an asshole?”

In contrast to his brother, Josh drips in beaded satin; glitter swept deftly across his eyes; rhinestones grabbing at the light until he winks and flashes like a star against its midnight sky.

No one would expect anything less. He is always the first to be found wandering the hallowed arena halls, made up and shining like old Hollywood royalty. It soothes him…a lullaby masquerading as expensively tailored glitz. You used to help him…zipping up jumpsuits he could have easily secured himself, fussing over his hair, lint rolling velvet, laughing and chattering away to keep his mind off that unforgiving anxiety of his. They are memories he cherishes and thinks of nearly every time he primps.

They each have their rituals - Daniel bangs around on a kit until his arms are loose and his mind is buzzing with adrenaline. Sam terrorizes the crew and his brothers with his trusty four-legged sidekick, shaking off the jitters with hijinks. And Jake scrutinizes his gear meticulously, checking the work of techs and roadies who definitely know what they’re doing. He usually finds something to pick apart anyway. It sharpens his focus and quiets his mind.

Josh steps into costume and becomes someone else. Someone he often doesn’t recognize…who is this person with such charisma and grace? He who commands the attention of crowd after crowd roaring and shaking the rafters? He who is worthy of such primal, hungry fervor?

That is how he finds the spotlight night after night. While the others do their own things, Josh quietly dresses and becomes someone, something, else.

And so, draped in his finery, he watches Sam through the mirror as he flops into a chair, all legs and attitude. “By all means, Samuel, make yourself at home.”

“Were you even going to tell me that she’s here? She always liked me best, you know? She was just too sweet to mention it to you idiots.”

Josh turns with a chorus of clattering glass beads, and leans back against the vanity, arms folded “One, I haven’t even seen you since I found out, so you’ll forgive me. Two, I knew Daniel would break his fucking neck to be the first to tell you,” He shrugs, “figured I’d let him have his moment.”

Popping open a White Claw, Sam ignores his brother's carping in favor of a question “You see her yet?”

“Yes,” Josh turns back to his reflection, patting a fingertip lightly over his eye makeup.

Never in possession of any patience to speak of - the baby of the family rarely is - Sam immediately prods him along. “And?”

He’s met with a sigh, “And what? I went to see her, we caught up for a little while, and then I left. That was that.”

“I went to see her,” there’s a mocking, obnoxious quality to Sam’s tone as he parrots Josh “we caught up for a while and then I— would you shut up? What happened? How is she?”

“She’s...I don’t know. She’s herself and not herself. She looked sad.” The revelation comes with a sadness of its own. “She’s getting married, so she shouldn’t have looked so damn miserable...but she did, and I hated it. It almost made me wish I hadn’t even knocked on her door.”

“I’m usually sad when you knock on my door, too.” Sam deadpans, attempting to lighten the mood at least a little.

“Must you lie, Samuel? You’re stricken with joy when I enter a room, just like everybody else.”

“Christ,” Sam mutters, tossing Josh a white claw to match his own, “I swear, if you could suck your own dick, you would.”

Josh cracks it open and slurps with a dramatic flourish, “Obviously.”

“Why do you think she looks so miserable?” Sam is pondering, turning something over in his mind with worry evident in his eyes.

“Probably because she knows she’ll likely have to see you. That’d be my guess, anyway.”

Josh is disguising his own knotted up stomach with humor. Sammy knows it, and chooses to ignore the dig.

They settle into their drinks until Sam speaks up once again, “She’s getting married? That’s just…” he quiets, unsure and still bristling with concern, “How are you gonna tell him? You gotta wait until after the show, that’s for sure.”

For once in his life, Josh has been rendered temporarily speechless, and that answers the question just fine.

“Are you serious?” Sam leans forward, elbows on his knobby knees, “You can’t be serious.”

“How am I going to tell him?” Now they’re just lobbing questions back and forth at one another. “You can’t be serious!”

Sam’s eyes widen, shocked and hurting for Jake in his absence. It would almost be comical if the situation could lend itself to anything other than this crushing weight, “We have to tell him, Josh. This isn’t okay. He has the right to—“

Suddenly, Josh pushes away from the vanity and the energy radiating from him shifts until he looks nearly frantic, “He has the right to what, Sam? To know? To see her? Have you lost your fucking mind? Put him in a room with her and we’re right back where we started. Three years progress,” his fingers snap harshly, “Poof! gone in a goddamn second.”

Matching his energy, Sam is on his feet in an instant, “Progress? Now whose lost his fucking mind? What progress are we talking about here, Josh? Because from where I’m standing, he’s made none. For his twin you’re remarkably ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant,” this is bad, especially right before they’re expected to perform. They both know it, but on they march. “I know him backwards and forwards, Sammy, so just fucking listen to me for once. She stays in the past for him and that’s just the way it’s gonna be, end of discussion.”

“She stays in his past, or yours?” Sam counters, sizing his eldest brother up as though he can see right through him.

Shoulders slumped, Josh shakes the venom in Sammy’s accusation off “That isn’t fair.”

“I don’t give a shit. Answer the question.”

Sometimes, Sam readies for battle in a manner that always comes as a shock no matter how many times they’ve seen it happen. When he sheds that goofball demeanor in favor of a game face, it hardly seems real.

He is fierce in his love and loyalty to those he holds close, and tonight, Jacob has earned his favor.

“This isn’t about me, I promise you that.” The truth rings out clear in Josh’s vow. “I loved her once, I love her still, just differently now. I couldn’t do that to him. Not ever. The way he loved her canceled me out a long time ago.”

“Loves her.” Sam corrects, with a finger pointed at his brother to drive home his point.

“All the more reason to keep your mouth shut.” Josh’s timbre is threatening in a way it almost never is. It sounds and feels strange…out of place. “She’s getting fucking married, do you really think he can handle that? Use your fucking head, Sam. Leave it alone.”

Hand on the door handle, Sam watches Josh as if he’d very much like to hurt him, “Who are you to decide what he can and can’t handle?”

~

The show is their worst in their collective memory since their days as greenhorns, though it’s doubtful the fans have taken notice. Each mishap is small and easily disguised, but present all the same. They are unsteady and off-kilter, but only Jake is oblivious as to why.

He snaps a string, misses a mark, foils a riff or two. Josh falls flat and overcompensates, vibrato ringing out sharp. Sam refuses to look in his eldest’s brother’s direction, leaving them detached and removed in an unsettling way. Danny is on point from a technical standpoint, but robotic…their chemistry has vanished tonight and they can all feel it.

The moment they stalk off stage, Sam is clamoring for Jake’s attention as Josh fights to intercept.

Most nights, they’ll filter off into their respective solitude for a time to bask in the quiet before the noise of the bus. Tonight, Sam follows Jake, and Josh follows Sam.

“Jake,” Sam jogs along, easily closing the distance his brother has gained ahead of him with those lanky legs of his. “Hold up, I need to talk to you.”

“It can wait.” Jake is on a mission, clearly in a hurry to close a door and shut out the world. To find a bottle and make love to the whiskey inside it.

“No, it can’t because—“

“He said it can wait, Sam.”

Josh’s admonishment, and the viciousness it’s crackling with, is what turns Jake around. It makes no sense for his twin to be this hostile over something so innocuous; over some random conversation Sam would like to have that doesn’t even involve him.

He turns to find Josh’s glare burning murderously in Sam’s direction. The air emanating from him is in such dramatic contrast to the sunny ray of entertaining light that has just been beaming around the stage, and immediately, Jake senses the urgency of the moment.

On his part, Josh feels the switch flip inside his twin and knows that they’re about to head into dangerous territory. Fucking Sam.

“What?” Jake is furiously fumbling with his hair, shoving sweat soaked snarls away from his face, suddenly overstimulated and on edge. “What is it?”

Sammy speaks up, fighting to be heard clearly as crew members dart around and rush by in a flurry of tasks. “She’s here. Well, not here, but at the hotel.”

Defeated, Josh admits his loss with a quiet “God damn it, Sam.”

Jake somehow manages to catch it over the din and he knows. Or at least, he thinks he knows. He can feel it coming off of Josh like ghostly fingers stretching out to claw at his chest. Still, he doesn’t quite understand, the pieces are just this shy from falling into place.

“Who?” His query is tentative…filled with hopefulness and also a strange terror. A fear he’s only ever felt once before, when, helpless and shattered, he had to watch you say goodbye. A torturous longing only you can evoke.

Sam’s lips part to speak, but Josh shoves past him, grabbing Jake by the arm with black beads shaking about on his shoulders. “No one. Go shower. Have a drink.”

Somehow, Josh’s grip tells Jake everything. All that feverish panic seeps into the fabric of his jacket, somehow chilling his flesh with its burn. “She’s here?” His entire body is rattling with frenetic energy and he wonders if he might crumple to the ground and spark like a downed power line if Josh were to let go of him.

“Jake,” his name is a coddling whisper on his twin's lips, “Leave. Now. C’mon, I’ll go with you. You know what’s best, I know you do.”

As it turns out, Jake doesn’t hit the ground like a live wire, because when he shoves Josh off, his footing is sure. “How did you know she was here? You knew? And you weren’t gonna fucking tell me? Have you seen her?”

Ashamed, and afraid of what’s to come, Josh remains silently stoic under his brother’s eager and furious scrutiny.

“I said, have you fucking seen her?” Now Jake’s body is vibrating with a fury so out of control it’s threatening to boil over and scald anyone in its path.

Suddenly, Danny appears as though summoned by the gods of intervention, as he so often seems to be. He steps in, tugging Jake away from his brothers while staring daggers at Sam.

Sam never fucking thinks…or is he the only one who is actually thinking clearly this time around?

“Come on,” Jake is stumbling around on his feet to keep up with a much larger Daniel, as he drags him along to his dressing room.

It feels like a fever dream when at last he pushes Jake into a chair before shutting their brothers out with a door slammed in their faces.

“Look,” he finds a seat in front of Jake and places a hand on his bouncing knee. “You’ve got to calm down and think for a minute. Do you really want to see her? I mean…”

He isn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, because nothing any of them can say will matter anyway.

“Take me to her.” Neither of them could have any way of knowing that Jake’s plea mirrors the one you had struggled to swallow down in Danny’s arms.

“I don’t know where she is.” He speaks in honesty, and Jacob can sense that.

“Find out.” He rises to his feet and straightens his back, resolved and ready to fight for this. Ready to fight for you. “Josh knows, that fuck. Go find out.”

“Alright,” Daniel nods because what’s to be done now? What’s to pointlessly fight? “Shower in here. I’ll go talk to him.”

~

You’re mindlessly staring at the television screen, gaze blurring and focusing in and out as some chef with a lovely accent you can’t seem to place tosses ingredients round a hissing wok.

The entire room is awash in the scent of the shower you’ve just wept your way through, and the robe you’re swaddled in feels stiff and scratchy. You should change, you know, but you haven’t the energy. Better to lie here uncomfortable and twisted up in aching sadness, that old friend of yours whom you’ve denied for far too long.

Lie to yourself all you want. Shove it inside a box and lock it up tight with chains and latches until it rusts shut, but that throbbing agony will wait patiently for you. Never losing focus, ever vigilant for the moment it can blast its way back into your broken heart.

How you’ll ever rise and put on a professional face for brunch in the morning is a cipher you don’t care to decode tonight.

He’s all you can think of; memories of him. Loneliness for him. The need, so real and palpable. It’s as if you can smell him on your skin though he hasn’t swept his fingers across it in years.

Years? How is that even possible? It seems laughable that you’ve managed so long without him. It seems impossible. A nightmare that you’ve been muddling through.

When the knock sounds out, clipped and sure, at your door, you’re tempted to ignore it - and you even give it a go, but it comes again along with a cheery greeting “Room service!”

You haven’t ordered room service at all, but there stands a smart looking hotel employee, dressed to the hilt in his crisp uniform, waiting patiently beside a cart, when you peer through the peep-hole.

Tightening that terrible robe, you crack open the door, readying to let him know he’s made a mistake, when a hand darts out to push several folded up bills into the server’s hand.

Stunned and struck silent, you manage only to stare as Jake gives thanks and sends him on his way, eyes never straying from your face.

He reaches for you instinctively, but thinks better of it and drops those hands you know so well to his sides, flexing them as if to shake the need to touch you away.

Instead, he opts to offer a soft smile and a gentle joke “Hey, sugar, how’d we get to this place where I’ve got to pay off hotel employees to knock on your door for me, hmm?”

“I—“ You give your head a tiny shake, begging the thoughts rattling around inside it to make sense.

He looks so different. His hair is shorter, and he’s filled out, thickened in a way that makes your throat constrict for all you’ve missed. He’s as beautiful as ever. Alluring and changed, but still just him. Familiar and breathtaking. Perfect and right. Yours. But yours no longer.

Strangely, it’s what he’s wearing that makes you weakest and a little unsteady. He’s dressed in tattered sweats and a beaten up t-shirt. Thrashed vans that were stark white in another life, and damp hair, clearly brushed in a hurry. You love this so much more than if he’d strutted back into your life dressed to the nines. You’d hate to think he’d forgotten you enough to think that sort of thing might impress you.

“Are you gonna invite me in or should I just stand out here in the hallway all night watching you?”

A laugh, breathy and dumbfounded, huffs out of you. You remember the first time he’d said those words to you, and surely he does too. Was that a calculated effort on his part? To remind you of where you’ve been together? Of who you were together?

It’s an awful, self-destructive idea, inviting him in, and you know it is, you do. But when he steps into the room, you can smell him and the fist that has been cruelly clenched around your heart for countless days and nights, relaxes and finally, finally, you can breathe.

The door closes with a click and he’s suddenly so close you could taste his breath if you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into it.

“Hi, pretty girl,” He hushes, and you wish his mouth was pressed against your ear so you could secret that quiet greeting away and live on it for the rest of your days.

All that white-hot closeness morphs into a hug. He’s hiding behind the platonic gesture, and so are you, but he can feel it, the way your body tenses and then melts against his own.

He feels as if he might disintegrate into a puddle of blackened anguish if he ever has to let you go, forever staining the horrendous hotel flooring where you once stood like an ethereal phantom sent to mend his heart. But a hideous reminder of where you once existed in this room with him for a few precious moments.

His hands have touched too many bodies to count since he last held you, but he has felt nothing until this moment.

No, he loathes the thought of letting you go, but he pulls back anyway, readying to let you lead this interaction. Alas, his palms find your cheeks all on their own, cupping the beautiful face he’s bartered with the devil for, that he’s prayed to god for, that he’s raged and begged for.

“My girl,” he wonders, like you can’t possibly be real. “My fucking girl.”

Your hands are molded over his, how did that happen? And then he’s releasing your face in order to lace your fingers together…he longs to touch you everywhere, but that isn’t okay any longer, is it? So he’s desperate for a way to latch onto you innocently.

He feels it then, and holds fast when you try to pull your hand away. Gaze - gorgeous honey swirling with caramel and horror - locked in on yours, he turns your hand to inspect the ring perched there like a weapon sent to destroy him.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @profitofthedune @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[sturnswrites]

fragments of us - pt.3

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ you and chris get in a car accident not only testing your relationship but also your memory…

⤳ angst, sadness, memory loss, recovery

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Days pass, and the house becomes a fragile balance of forced normalcy. You still feel like a stranger in your own life. You begin observing the brothers closely, forming opinions about each of them as if meeting them for the first time.

Matt’s gentle approach and Nick’s lighthearted humor put you at ease. They don’t ask much of you, simply treating you like a new friend. Matt always offers her snacks or a blanket when you look cold. Nick makes you laugh with his dramatic impressions and ridiculous stories about their childhood. You start to feel comfortable around them, appreciating their patience.

But Chris is different. He hovers but doesn’t speak as freely as his brothers. His glances linger too long, and when he does talk to you, it feels like he’s holding back an ocean of words. His intensity unnerves you.

You notice the way his face lights up when you enter the room, followed by a flicker of sadness when you avoid his gaze. There’s an ache in your chest you don't understand whenever he looks at you like that—like you're a ghost of the person he loves.

Chris, on the other hand, feels you slipping further away. He watches you laugh with Nick, sees the way you nod at Matt when he suggests watching a movie. But with him? You keep your answers short, your body stiff when he’s near. He can’t escape the thought that you feel safer with his brothers than with him.

-

Late one night, when the house is quiet and you and Nick have gone to bed, Chris finds himself sitting at the kitchen table with Matt. A single lamp illuminates the room, casting shadows that match the heaviness in his chest.

Matt notices the tension radiating from Chris and asks softly, “What’s going on in your head?”

Chris takes a shaky breath, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I feel like I’m losing her, Matt,” he admits, his voice cracking. “She’s right here, but it’s like… she’s not her. Not the person I love. And what if she never comes back? What if she never remembers us—me?”

Matt sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Chris, you have to give her time. She’s been through something traumatic. You can’t force her to remember.”

Chris’s frustration boils over, and he stands abruptly, pacing the small kitchen. “I know that, Matt! But I feel like I’m grieving her, like she’s… gone.” His voice breaks completely, and he presses his palms to his face. “And what if she does remember? What if she remembers and doesn’t love me anymore? What if she decides I’m not worth it?”

Matt rises from his seat, his voice calm but firm. “Stop. You can’t think like that. Y/N loved you before the accident, and that kind of love doesn’t just disappear. But you have to stop putting all this pressure on yourself—and on her.”

Chris shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I don’t know how to do this, Matt. I don’t know how to watch her move on like I don’t exist.”

Upstairs, you stir awake. You’ve been restless for weeks, haunted by dreams of faces you don't fully recognize and feelings you can’t explain. The muffled sound of voices downstairs catches you attention, and you tiptoe to the staircase, careful not to wake Nick.

You crouch on the top step, just out of sight, and listen. Chris’s voice is raw, filled with pain.

“I’d give anything—anything—for her to look at me the way she used to. To remember all the little things, like how she used to steal my hoodies or the way she’d hum that stupid song when she was nervous. Now she doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me.”

Your breath catches. Your chest tightens painfully, and you press a hand over your heart, confused by the sudden wave of emotion.

Matt’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “You need to stop blaming yourself, Chris. The accident wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was,” Chris insists, his voice trembling. “We were arguing. I wasn’t paying attention, and now—” He chokes on his words, gripping the back of a chair as if it’s the only thing holding him up. “I hurt her. I ruined everything.”

Your mind reels. You feel an ache you can’t place, as if your body remembers something your brain can’t. Chris’s words echo in your ears, pulling at a part of you that feels familiar and foreign all at once.

Back in your room, you sit on her bed, staring at the faint glow of moonlight on the wall. Chris’s voice plays in your mind on repeat. The desperation, the love, the guilt—it all feels so… real.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make sense of the strange ache in your chest. “Why do I feel like this?” you whisper to yourself.

Your eyes wander to the hoodie draped over your chair—Chris’s hoodie. You don't remember how you got it, but something about it feels safe. You hesitate before grabbing it, slipping it over your head. The scent is faint but comforting, like a memory just out of reach.

As you lie back down, the fabric bunching around you, you feel something stir deep within you. You don't understand it yet, but for the first time, you don't feel quite so alone.

And for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Chris’s pain than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

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shorter chapter im sorryyyyy things have been crazy with the holidays!

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@mattsdillon @hesvoid3434 @admeliora94 @courta13

[grimgrazia]

Makima and Motherhood

The symbolism Fujimoto uses to connect Makima to maternity is something that really stands out to me in CSM part 1. Even without the visuals, Makima’s demeanor alone is very “parental,” (not necessarily in a good way, but she still has that presence about her.) To be clear, this analysis will focus more on the connection between Makima and motherhood, the symbolism Fujimoto uses, as well as the irony behind it. I plan on doing an entirely separate analysis for her character in general.

Before getting into the manga, I want to point out some of the imagery used in the anime. A very well known frame from the anime comes from its third ending. Makima is depicted as the Virgin Mary, floating in front of a kneeling Denji, who looks as if he’s worshipping or praying. A lot of people use this scene for bf/gf memes which I kind of find funny (and low-key Freudian). The visual is not really emphasizing Denji’s infatuation with Makima but rather her control over him, which stems from Denji’s desire for a mother figure.

One of the most misinterpreted parts of CSM is Denji and Makima’s dynamic. People often describe Makima as someone who used seduction to manipulate Denji but that’s not really the case. However, to say that she didn’t explore this tactic in the beginning of the manga would be a complete lie. Where she really becomes a mother towards Denji is, ironically, on their movie “date.” The movie theatre scene is a crucial moment for both of their characters but I’ll touch on that later.

For many people, mothers are viewed as this authoritative role model for most of their childhood. Anything she says or does must be correct because she is your mother. It’s easy to look back when you are older and call children stupid for it, but it’s natural instinct. Mothers for many are a source of security and comfort. That is what Denji saw in Makima. That is what Makima wanted Denji to see in her.

When reading CSM, it’s obvious that Makima groomed Denji but I feel like not many people acknowledge how she groomed him and why it’s so disturbing. Like I said earlier, it’s true that she explored seducing Denji but she abandons this idea once she realizes what it is Denji truly longs for, even if he doesn’t realize it himself. He wants the security and comfort only a mother and a family can offer, so she provides exactly that for him. What’s ironic about it is she’s giving Denji exactly what she wants, which probably contributes to her jealousy and hatred for him. What she’d Denji into such shock at the end of Part 1 is that on top of the people he cared about being killed, he learns that the only person he had was 1.) not really a “person” at all and 2.) hiding her animosity towards him in order to manipulate him. I can only imagine how baffling it must be for your own “mother,” who’d showered you in affection since the day you were born, to all of the sudden flip the switch in the cruelest way imaginable.

Also, it is important to understand that multiple things can be true at once. Makima was never attracted to Denji romantically, sexually, or even platonically. In fact, she makes it quite clear at the end of Part 1 that she views him as insignificant and distasteful. It’s a bit shocking considering how much attention and effort it would take to manipulate someone like that. However, this doesn’t change the fact that she groomed him.

It’s common for their to be some sense of attachment to an abuser, especially in a familial scenario like the one that plays out here. A very sad and disturbing part of all of this is how Denji, despite everything Makima has done, is extremely hurt by the fact Makima cannot even remember his scent let alone his face. That being said, I love how a huge reason Denji defeats Makima is because she only recognized Chainsawman’s scent, not Denji’s.

Although it’s sad, I do like the way Fujimoto hints at Makima only seeing Pochita, not Denji. For example, every time Makima and Denji hug, Makima puts her head on Denji’s chest, right over where his “heart,” Pochita, is. My personal favorite detail is the image of Makima reflected in the chainsaw’s blade. Even as Denji is attacking her, her eyes aren’t focused on the assailant but the weapon because it is a chainsaw. It’s a really creative way of showing that Makima’s fixation was solely on Chainsawman, not Denji. She didn’t even recognize Denji without Pochita as his heart.

As I mentioned before, Makima is depicted as the Virgin Mary a lot. Despite being such a dark character, she’s often engulfed by a warm light in these images to compliment the illusion of safety and love she creates. One of these comes from Chainsawman ending 5, where for a brief moment a painting of Denji and Makima, that is a reference to Michelangelo’s “La Pietà,” can be seen. The reference to this famous sculpture is another nod to the mother-son dynamic between Denji and Makima as well as a way of foreshadowing Makima’s intention to bring Chainsawman back, but let Denji die in the process.

**Another cool detail is how the shadow of the window pane looks like a cross. I love all the religious symbolism so much.**

Another interesting part of their dynamic is the idolization. Denji puts Makima, someone who doesn’t care about him, on a pedestal. He sees her in a divine light. Interestingly enough, Makima admires Chainsawman in a similar way. What Makima and Denji have in common here is that neither devil they look up to truly acknowledges their existence as an individual. This is just one of the many ways in which Makima and Denji parallel each other.

An iconic yet ambiguous part of the manga is Denji and Makima’s movie theatre hopping spree. (On a separate note, that actually seems like so much fun.) They culminate their movie marathon with a Soviet film called “Ballad of a Soldier.” To better understand the manga I watched this movie on my own and I can confirm, it’s sad. Makima’s emotional response to it is probably the most memorable part of the entire ordeal. She sheds tears as the mother and son embrace in the film.

A person might cry during a movie because they can sympathize with the characters or situations. It’s difficult to realize this unless you take a step back and ask why a certain scene made you cry, because it’s a lot more than “it was sad.” In Makima’s case, she is not crying out of sympathy, but out of yearning. The relationship depicted in the film is what she wants. Denji is crying beside her as well because he also wants that type of relationship. They both want a family, a stable source of security and comfort. This scene is also alluding to what Pochita tells Denji at the end of part 1. He tells Denji to give Nayuta lots of hugs, to become the family Makima didn’t have.

It’s also interesting how Denji and Makima’s roles flip in part 2. Obviously she is no longer Makima, as her new incarnation is Nayuta, but I believe this was very intentional. Denji sort of becomes a parental role model to Nayuta, much like how Denji viewed Makima. Only this time, it’s genuine. Another reason I really like Nayuta’s character is because of how different she is from Makima. It’s fun to compare and contrast their characters. I really love the parallels. Character design wise, I like how Fujimoto kept the braid. It’s symbolic of not just the control devil’s chains, but bonds.

Speaking of chains, the chains coming from Makima’s womb are also symbolic of maternity. The first time she’s shown using this power is during the infamous Gun Devil showdown. It seems the chains grant her the ability to use the powers and contracts of other devils and humans. The chains seem to connect to the navels of those she controls, acting as an umbilical cord of sorts.

Obviously the uterus to navel connection is symbolic of motherhood, but why chains? The chains are also symbolic of the dynamic between Makima and other characters. She can’t form genuine connections, so she uses her powers. The chains are representative of how people’s admiration of her isn’t a choice. She’s using her powers for her own agenda, but she also may be trying to feel less lonely. However, even she knows it doesn’t substitute a real relationship. Her power requires her to have a superiority complex, and it’s her nature as the control devil that makes it so hard to achieve her dreams. Makima does understand that all of her relationships are superficial, and it bothers her.

Despite all of these roadblocks, it is not impossible for the control devil to form a bond. Pochita knew this and Nayuta is proof of it. I believe Makima was capable of forming those bonds at one point in her life, but ultimately her upbringing destroyed any possibilities of that happening by the time Part 1 begins.

I post these on tiktok before tumblr because I write them in Pages, and it takes a while to put the pictures in on here. I gave up on my Denji and Doors analysis with the photos but I’ll try to be better about it moving forward because I do think visuals are important.

[ripmyselfxd]

Never Forget - (Joao Felix)

Pairing- Joao Felix x fem!reader

Summary- Joao is in a game when his coach pulls him aside, telling him the worst news he had ever heard

Warnings- ANGST!! Sad, very sad. Nothing happy

”Here is halftime, the teams will be back soon.” The announcers announced, Joao stormed off of the field, very pissed off because he has missed 2 shots already. He was also mad because he and you had a fight earlier, and you left. As he comes off of the field his assistant coach runs up to him, ‘Now what?!’ He thinks. “Joao!” He yells, waving his arms. “What?!” Joao says as he sits down drinking water, his coach has wide eyes as he says, “You have a call.” Joao is confused, why would he have a call at 9:47 in the night and more importantly, why would someone call him at his game? He snatches the phone from his coaches hand, “Hello?” He tries to keep his cool because he doesn’t know who he is talking to. “Hello? Is this Joao… Felix?” He doesn’t recognize the voice, it is a female voice. “Yes this is him, what do you need?” He grips the phone harder, trying his best not to snap. “Do you have any connection with (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” He immediately calms down, then becomes worried, “Yes, she is my girlfriend, why?” The lady takes a deep breath, “This is the hospital,” His heart drops to his feet, she continues, “Your girlfriend got into a car accident and is in bad shape.-“ He doesn’t need anymore information, he hangs up the phone hading it back to his coach. His face filled with guilt, and sadness. He asks his coach “Can I go-“ He interrupts Joao, “Yes, go now.” Joao rushes out of the stadium, quickly getting in his car and driving to the hospital. Once he checks in with the lady at the front desk, she tells him you are in room 326, on the 2nd level. He rushes to the elevator, not sparing his fans even a glance. He goes up, it feels like hours for him to reach the 2nd level but eventually he does, jogging to room 326. He runs into the room and sees your still figure, along with your parents (and siblings) crying. He walks over to you, “Hey, it’s me. I- God, I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t want you to leave, this is all my fault. If you didn’t leave then this would’ve never happened.” He starts crying. Suddenly, your heart monitor goes silent. Your whole family freaks out in sobs and cries as the doctor pushes them out of the room. He stands there, red wide eyes, sweaty soccer/football uniform, and messed up hair. The doctor pushed him out of the room, shutting the door. He stands there, helpless and alone, hoping-praying they save you. About half an hour later, the doctor comes out. Joao stands and rushes over to him, “Well, how is she?” He croaks out, voice hoarse. The doctor gives him a sad, guilty look, Joan’s heart shatters to pieces. “No, no, no. No, your joking with me, right?” Joao looks at him with pleading eyes, the doctor shakes his head, putting a hand on Joao’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry, son.” And with that, the doctor walks off. Joao slides down on a wall, putting his head in his knees. “No.” He whispers while crying- sobbing even. “No.” He says a bit louder. He sobs, thinking back to all of your memories together, how you two meet- it was summer and you where in Portugal for a business trip. You meet at the beach, talking to each other for hours. His mind jumps to your first kiss- you two had just finished your first date, him driving you home. Once you got home he opened the car door for you, letting you out. ‘Thanks’ ‘Anytime, meu amor’ You faced him and then slowly leaned in. Lips meeting in a soft kiss. His mind was racing, jumping from memory to memory, your scent, voice, clothes- everything. He was trying to remember everything about you, capturing you in his mind. One memory stuck out to him, when he lost a big match- the Euro 2024 to be exact. You were at home with him, cuddling, after the loss. You were comforting him, holding him tight and whispering how he did so good, “Never forget, I will always love you. No matter what. And until the day I die.”

A/N- AHHH!! I almost cried like three times while writing this. 😢 Who else, cause I know I’m not the only one.

[darcytaylor]

I recently found your blog after hearing you mentioned on a discord I joined. I’m very glad I have. I’ve got very caught up in speculating the ship and it’s become draining and, I realise, unhealthy. After reading back over last few weeks, I’ve enjoyed your observations and insights, I have come to the realisation that we really don’t know anything for sure, it’s all speculation. And, as a fandom, perhaps avoiding certain realities by changing narratives. As a result, the fandom has become so whipped into a frenzy. So, it’s been a refreshing wake up call reading your blog.

Regarding Nicola and Luke, I have some thoughts I’d like to share ( for no other reasons than it feels a safe space to share and perhaps for others to read and acknowledge they’re normal human beings like us) I actually really feel for Nicola at the moment. She’s at an important stage in her life. A point where you may be thinking about where to go next and what you want for your life in the future. She’s a very giving, nurturing person, we can see she cares and supports her friends. My hope is that she has strong support back as her life is changing. She’s certainly in the spotlight and I think she’s at risk of overdoing things and burning out as she finds her way up. She’s appeared overwhelmed at times recently. This is my intuition.

re Luke, I hope he’s doing well. I’m very fond of him. He’s been very quiet and has had a lot of negativity on him for his life choices . I do think he’s made some unwise choices. Which. I think may have been impacted by the pressures of being a lead, perhaps personal pressure to change his outward appearance, a long term relationship break up, and then all the promotions. As an introvert, I feel this may have overwhelmed him? I also wonder if he’s afraid to take the next step ( like Nicola has) as it may impact the dynamics of friendships/relationship in terms of his and their own status ? It can be very hard to navigate higher achievements if you’re moving forward more quickly than the people in your life. There are always feelings involved from each side, both good and bad. So maybe it’s easier to stay lower key. Who knows? But I do feel , again, just from my own intuition, that there’s a lack of confidence behind decisions made, which is sad to think.

Thank you for reading if you’ve got this far. It has been quite cathartic to write it down before I take a step back, and remain hopeful for them finding true happiness, however that looks.

Sorry for the late response to this ask! I’m really glad you found my blog and that it’s given you a bit of a wake-up call with all the speculation going around. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in fandom drama, especially when narratives keep shifting and people start projecting their own feelings onto public figures.

I appreciate your insights about Nicola and Luke - just from reading your ask, I can see you have some empathy! Nicola is at a pivotal point in her life, and having solid support as she navigates these changes is incredibly important. It’s tough that she doesn’t live close to her family, but I know she views her friends in London as family because of that (she said that in an interview once). The pressures of being in the spotlight must be overwhelming, so I totally understand why you’d feel concerned for her well-being.

As for Luke, the pressure of being a lead is a lot to handle, especially for an introvert. Your intuition about his lack of confidence is an interesting take that I haven’t really considered, but I have wondered if he’s trying to figure out what kind of actor and celebrity he wants to be.

It’s definitely good to take a step back and process everything going on. It’s completely valid to care about their happiness while recognizing how wild their situations are. Here’s hoping they both find what they’re looking for in life, however that looks!

[rainbow--panic]

Yall I’ve been seeing all this Black myth wukong art and Ocs from other ppl and wanted to throw my hat in the ring as welll.

This is my oc and a quick lil sketch with the destined one

She isn’t my only JTTW oc but i drew the others in the style of LMK

Originally she was going to be a fox who, though the power of will and love for her little sister, went to find the Colossus star guardian dragon (My goddess character), becoming human and joined the destined one on his adventures in hopes that they could revive sun wukong and he could find the godddess.

But as I always do, I’m thinking about scraping that lore.

Instead, sticking with the fox theme, I was thinking that when the goddess was born, her uncle feared for her safety and didn’t want her to be alone, as she belonged to a family of physical, magical, and political power, so they grabbed a baby fox abandoned in the woods and granted it power. That fox became Tiānhuǒ. Not only did she serve as a friend to the goddess, but was also considered a sister and earned the role as her advisor.

As centuries past, she had witness the goddess go down to the mortal realm and be apart of a party traveling to the west, which she also briefly joined until she was able to convince her goddess to return back to heaven to complete her duties.

When sun wukong died, the goddess went missing. The first place Tiānhuǒ checked was a village the goddess and herself had looked after and grew, which is around the area of where she met the destined one and, to her dismay, the pig she had met all those years ago that she wished she would never see again. Originally she played the part of a warrior from that village looking for the goddess as the crops had began to wither and her people were plagued by sickness. She offered to help find the remaining bits of sun wukong, thinking that he would be the last person to know the goddesses whereabouts.

Her identity, which was “The immortal vixen Priestess” was revealed later on as a demon had outed her, being the only one to recognize her human disguise. Pigsy (bc I CANNOT remember his actual name and i am not looking it up bc reasons) wanted to kick her out of the small group with the argument of ‘you lied to us once, you’ll lie to us again’ which she fought with the fact that she IS a warrior who IS ‘from’ the village as that as where her starting point was, the crops in the village were withering and the people were sick, so she technically didn’t lie about anything.’ She also had a new relationship with the destined one whom she named Chén Yàn and her actually being an immortal fox wasn’t a deal breaker for him.

Now to describe interactions

Pigsty + Tiā= kinda a love/hate relationship. Like she talks down to him ad does not like him and is rude to him and him to her, but like, on the battle field that doesn’t matter, no matter what she looks out for her comrades, even if they ae annoying

Tiā + Yán= She was annoyed at first when he didn’t talk much and never really cared about that till one day he said something to her and she flipped her shīt like

“Oh my god, I thought you were mute and you were just ignoring me this whole time? I could have used your feedback so many times and you just stayed quiet?!”

I’m still working on how their relationship started but essentially after working side by side, back to back, with one another for so long and going through hell, she started t view him in a new light and it didn’t help that every time she felt sad, tired, hungry, thirsty, what have you, that he was there with everything she needed. She always tries to be logical and it didn’t help that her logical mind was telling her that all her needs are being met by this one man so she should marry him.

As for Yán, he sees how balanced she is, being able to be this polite, courtly, heavenly women, used to having power at her finger tips, but yet is not above calling a pig demon a bastard and getting into trouble. She isn’t afraid to speak up to anyone, and speaks to others with authority, even him. At times she has even spoken for him since, well selective mutism, and also in times where she feels he’s being disrespected.

But anyways this is them, enjoy! <3

[electrosuite]

ok so i’m gonna ask for smth super specific to my own sad little life but i’d love if you could write it

so essentially female!reader is plus sized and eddie takes a liking to her and asks her out when she’s at her locker but she’s been asked out as a joke before and made fun of her whole life so she doesn’t believe that he’s being genuine but he says he understands what it’s like to be an outcast and bullied and that he genuinely thinks she’s like gorgeous and so she says yes and they go out to dinner but she’s super nervous about eating in front of him

then fast forward like 2 months and they have sex for the first time despite her having given him a bj but never asked him to do anything because she’s afraid he won’t be attracted to her, but then she decides to finally take it a step further and she’s really reluctant to take her clothes off in front of him but he’s so comforting and he thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the entire world

then after they have sex they talk and she reveals that jason and his friends followed her into the woods one day during lunch and surrounded her so they could bully her and just be really mean but one of her male friends saw them following her and stepped in

like i said it’s a sad story but this whole situation actually happened to me in high school but me and my bf have been together almost five years now so maybe it’s not all bad

warnings: swearing, mentions of bullying and harassment, dirty talk, oral sex, descriptive sex

word count: 4.9k

masterlist

a/n: oh my, i’m so sorry this happened to you. idk what possesses people to be so mean to others based off judgments of their appearance rather than their personality. i hope i do your request justice.

It was a normal day for you so far. It was Tuesday, which meant you had your painting, history, and math, as well as a free period. You intended to spend it in the library, so you stopped at your locker to put away most of your books and grab your backpack. You decided to look down at a page of your homework, going over what you needed to study.

But when your locker closed with a bang, you jumped and looked up and to your right. There stood Eddie Munson, a metalhead who hosted the Dungeons & Dragons club, also known as Hellfire.

But he’d become a friend to you as of late. And friends weren’t something you had many of. You weren’t very social, preferring to keep to yourself and listen to your music on your Walkman.

Middle school and high school weren’t easy for you. You’d always had issues surrounding your weight, seemingly unable to keep it off. And middle school kids and high school bullies immediately noticed. It was an easy thing for them to pick on, so they did.

You couldn’t catch a break, and the people who you thought were your friends made fun of you behind your back. So you gave up on trying to have friends and just decided to stop socializing altogether.

One day when you were looking for somewhere to sit at lunch, Eddie was standing at the end of one of the tables and making a speech to his friends about how people mislabel them as “freaks” and “Satan worshippers” when he spotted you. He thought you were pretty, and when the two of you made eye contact, he gave you a friendly smile and walked over, clearing his throat.

“Looking for somewhere to sit?” You nodded, both of you glancing around the cafeteria. The only open spot was next to Jason Carver and his basketball friends, and Eddie could see your aversion to joining them. “Wanna sit with us?” he asked, glancing over at the younger boys having a conversation about Dungeons & Dragons.

“Sure,” you said with an awkward smile.

He made some of the boys scoot down so you could sit next to him. You were sitting awkwardly as they hadn’t given you enough room to sit, and you hoped no one would notice besides you.

But Eddie noticed.

“You okay?” he asked, recognizing how uncomfortable you were. You simply nodded and gave a small smile, but he didn’t buy it. “Hey asshats,” he said, catching the attention of the three boys next to you. “Scoot over more.”

They did it without question and returned to their conversation with the rest of the group, and you were a bit taken aback at their lack of reaction. You scooted over and got comfortable, able to let out a sigh.

“Better?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and turning the corners of his mouth upwards.

“Better.”

And since that one, small interaction, you’d began sitting with them regularly. One day, he offered you a Hellfire shirt, even though you didn’t play.

“Normally I wouldn’t offer one to someone not in the club, but I really like having you around. Plus, you’d match better if you had one.”

Your cheeks got red at that, and you laughed awkwardly for a moment.

“I’d love one.”

“Great! What size?” You faltered at that, scratching the back of your neck. “What’s wrong?” he asked, genuinely concerned about why your demeanor changed so suddenly.

You shook your head. “Nothing. Um, a two-x. If you have them.”

“Why wouldn’t I have one?”

You shrugged. “I just... didn’t know if you had bigger sizes, you know?”

“Of course, I have 'em. I got some made in every size. They're in my van, I can get you one after school.”

“Cool.”

Another conversation that left you a bit stunned. You were used to not being able to find bigger sizes in the clothes you wanted, and you always felt judged asking for them.

But you didn’t feel judged when you told Eddie. It was just another transaction, and you thought that this is what it must feel like to ask him for a small or medium.

Turns out, a two-x was exactly the size you needed. It was a baseball tee style shirt so it was slim-fitting but not tight, and you couldn’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror the next morning. You’d never had a shirt that fit you like this — one that wasn’t oversized and didn’t make you uncomfortable. You also really liked how the three-fourths length sleeves made your arms look.

And so did Eddie. When you walked into the lunchroom he almost choked on his water before you made it into earshot, so you didn’t see his reaction.

“Hey,” you greeted, sitting in your usual spot next to him.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thanks. It’s very soft.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You noticed he was acting a bit off, but you paid no attention to it.

And this led to now, with him standing at your locker after closing it for you.

“Hi,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the metal surface.

“Hi.”

You held your notebook down in front of you, your arms straight and in a position to cover as much of your torso as you could. This was your natural stance now whenever you held something, trying to avoid stares.

“What are you up to?”

“Free period. I was gonna go to the library and study.”

“Oh sweet, I have a free period too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was probably gonna head out early.” He crossed his arms to be as casual as possible. “If you wanted to hang out or something.”

“I can’t, I have a really big test tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, what about tomorrow night, then?”

“What, like a date?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

You furrowed your brows, questioning his intentions.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Seriously.”

“Is this a joke? Did someone put you up to this? Was it Jason?”

“What? Of course not. Why would it be a joke, and why would Jason tell me to ask you out?”

“Because he’s done it before. More than once.”

“What?”

“If this is a joke I will walk away right now.”

“Y/N, it’s not a joke. I want to hang out with you. I like you.”

You raised your eyebrows, still not fully believing him. “You like me?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, tell me what you like about me.”

“I like that you’re one of the few people in this school that doesn’t think that I’m a freak.”

And that was when it hit you. Eddie was in the same boat as you were. The bullying, the mocking, the harassment. You’d both endured it for years, and you were the first girl who treated him like a person, not an outcast.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to. Most people wouldn’t. But if you do, the offer still stands.” He turned to walk away when you reached out and grabbed his hand. He looked down at your hands then up at you.

“I’m sorry. It’s just... hard to tell if someone’s being genuine. I’m sorry I accused you of that, you’re not the type of person to pull something like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Tomorrow night sounds fantastic.”

“Great.”

You pulled a piece of paper from your notebook and scribbled your address down on it, handing it over to him.

“Pick me up tomorrow after school. We can do whatever you want.”

He nodded. “Great. Dinner it is.”

As he walked off, you felt a sense of horror wash over you.

Dinner. Up until now, you’d only eaten small snacks at lunch in front of him, like an apple or peanut butter crackers. This was all on purpose, trying to avoid your regular bullies seeing you eat and approach to make fun of you.

But now the idea of eating an entire dinner in front of him made you queasy.

So when you two were in his van pulling into the parking lot of the local twenty-four hour diner, he noticed how nervous you were. He assumed it was just regular jitters, but he could tell something was wrong when you began looking at the menu.

“I think I’ll just get a salad,” you said in an unsure tone.

“A salad? That’s it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Why not get something more filling?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I’m trying to eat better.”

He tilted his head and gave you a confused expression. He leaned forward and put his weight on his elbows. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“As soon as I brought up dinner you got kinda... standoffish. I could’ve picked something else if you didn't want to eat.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to bring down the mood or anything, it’s just... I usually don’t eat much in front of other people.”

“How come?”

“Because I get made fun of.”

“Made fun of? Why?”

“Eddie, come on.” When his expression simply said that he didn’t understand, you scoffed. “I’m not exactly thin.”

���Who cares?”

“I do. So does everyone else, apparently.”

“Well, everyone else are dumbasses.” You snickered at that comment. “Y'know, the first time I saw you, I thought you were the prettiest girl in Hawkins.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious! You can even ask Dustin, I brought it up at Hellfire.”

“What did you say?”

“He asked if I knew you and I said no but I thought you were really pretty.”

You’d never felt like this before. Sitting across from you was someone who had only nice things to say to you, not a lick of judgment in his voice. Someone was calling you pretty, and they were being genuine.

“Order what you actually want to eat. Don’t starve yourself for me.”

“Okay.” You skimmed over the menu again. “I think I’ll get a cheeseburger.”

“Sounds delicious,” he said, satisfied that he convinced you to order what you wanted.

And then, before you knew it, two months had gone by and you and Eddie were officially dating. But, of course, because of the rumors about him, you only faced more harassment. Notes in your locker from anonymous bullies calling you a “Satan worshipper” and “cult apologist”, but this was the first time that none of it bothered you.

You knew Eddie wasn’t any of the things that people called him, and you felt like you were walking on sunshine every moment you got to spend with him. He made you feel beautiful — something no one had ever been able to do. He made you feel comfortable, like you were home when you were wrapped in his arms.

But despite how beautiful he made you feel, the idea of him seeing you without clothes on made you more anxious than you'd ever felt.

So, to ease into the idea of sex, you decided you were going to go down on him, even if you weren't good at it.

So when you were listening to him play guitar in his van one day after school, you decided to make a move.

He was playing a song he'd mastered, Stairway to Heaven, when you crawled over and gently pushed the guitar out of his lap. He put it down next to the beanbag he was sitting on and smiled as you came up to his eye level to kiss him.

"What are you doing?" he chuckled through kisses.

"I wanna make you feel good."

"What?"

You ran one of your hands down his stomach and to his belt buckle. He reached down and stopped you.

"What are you doing?" he asked, this time in a serious tone.

"I wanna blow you."

His eyebrows raised. "Are you sure?"

"What, you don't want me to?"

He looked at you like you were crazy. "Oh, believe me, I do. I just... This is coming out of left field. I just don't want you to do it because you feel like you need to."

"I don't feel like I need to. I just... I want to do this."

He still seemed skeptical, but he let go of your hand and allowed you to continue. You undid his belt, then his pants, then you pulled them and his underwear down enough to allow everything to spring out.

Your eyes went big, not expecting but also not surprised by his size.

"Is it okay?" he asked sheepishly.

You did your best to suppress your nervousness and wrapped your hand around his length and licked the tip, making him take a deep, sharp breath.

Your lips engulfed him, sinking your mouth down and going until he hit the back of your throat. He involuntarily bucked his hips, the extra inch or two making you choke.

"Sorry," he said, pushing your hair out of your face.

You wrapped your hand around the base and stroked it as you bobbed your head, which made him throw his head back.

"Shit," he whispered, putting his right hand on the top of your head and guiding you along. "That feels so good."

You adjusted your tongue so that it laid flat against the underside of his dick, which apparently felt better because his moans instantly got louder.

"Y/N, I'm not gonna last much longer."

At this point, he was guiding you along more than you were actually doing anything of your own, so you just let him. You could tell that he was close to cumming, and you weren't planning on stopping until he was drained.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned, and based on him thrusting his hips, you knew he was right on the edge.

Then, suddenly, you tasted something you've never experienced. It was salty and bitter, and there was a lot of it. The weak moans that left his mouth made you smirk the best you could with a dick in your mouth, but you slowed your pace and watched him breathe heavily.

When he looked down at you, you were swallowing the cum in your mouth, and his eyes widened.

"Did you swallow?" You nodded. "God, that was hot." He pulled you up to where he could kiss you and you giggled at his excitement. "It didn't taste bad, did it?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't know what it's supposed to taste like, but I didn't wanna spit it out."

He nodded. "Good. My turn."

He started sitting up, and you stopped him. "What do you mean?"

"I was gonna go down on you. Return the favor."

You shook your head. "That's okay."

He was confused. "What?"

"I'm okay. I'll let you know when I'm ready for that."

"Are you sure? I feel bad not doing it."

"I'm sure. And don't feel bad. I'm just not ready for that yet."

He gave you a small smile. "Okay. But I am going to rock your world when you let me."

That was three days ago. You hadn't seen Eddie much in those days as he'd been at his friend Dustin's doing a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, but as soon as their game was over he made sure you were the first person he saw.

He surprised you at your locker, splitting a candy bar with you. You sat together at lunch, which you ate outside at one of the picnic tables. He sat on the table, and you sat on the bench next to him.

"So I was thinking," he said, his mouth full from a bite he took from his apple.

"About what?"

"Tonight's Friday. Would you wanna stay at my place?"

Neither of you had spent the night at the other's place since you got together, so this was a big step.

"Your uncle would be okay with that?" you asked, knowing he lived with his uncle.

"He works night shift, but he wouldn't care either way. What do you say?"

You thought for a minute. "I'd have to tell my parents that I'm staying with a friend, but I'd love to."

"Yeah?"

"Totally."

"Awesome. I have tons of tapes we can watch."

You knew how tonight would probably end. And you were excited for it. But you were more nervous than anything. You wanted to go to the next level with him, even if it meant doing something that made you uncomfortable.

So when he kissed you during the movie you guys decided on in his room, you pulled him on top of you and wrapped your legs around his thighs.

"Eddie," you whispered.

"Mm?" he moaned softly into your neck, pressing kisses into your skin.

"I want to do this."

He looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear with his right hand. "Are you sure?" You nodded. "I need you to say it, sweetheart."

That nickname always made your heart skip a beat.

"I'm sure."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Absolutely positively with a cherry on top?"

You laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. "So many cherries. As many as you want."

"Okay."

"Go turn the lights off."

He obeyed immediately, the only light coming from the television. When he returned, he got back into the same position as a moment ago, but he used his knees to push your legs back further.

You reluctantly reached down and pulled your shirt off, having to sit up a bit for a moment.

His eyes were glued to your body, unable to look at anything else. It made you feel awkward and your natural instincts were to cover yourself. But when you did, he wrapped his fingers around your wrists and pulled your arms away.

"This is what you've been hiding?" he asked, his tone full of love. "Goddamn, Y/N." His lips latched onto your chest, his hands on your hips.

"Is that a good thing?"

He made eye contact. "You're a goddess. Literally ethereal."

You couldn't hold back the laugh you let out. "I think that's a bit of an exaggeration."

"I'm speaking nothing but the truth."

Before he could do anything else, you reached under you and unhooked your bra, slowly removing it and throwing it to the floor. You could've sworn his eyes popped out of his head like a cartoon character at that, and he swallowed the spit in his mouth before littering kisses across your breasts.

"Take your shirt off," you commanded, which he did. He was so beautiful, and it made you bite your lip.

He leaned back down to kiss you and untied your sweatpants, which made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. His hand slipped into them and his fingers found your clit, causing you to gasp softly.

"Is that okay?" he asked, breaking the kiss.

You nodded. "Yeah, it's good."

His fingers continued to work and you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into his mouth. But it only lasted a few more seconds before he scooted down on the bed and hooked his fingers under your pants, looking at you for permission.

You reached down and helped him, unable to muster a single word. He slowly removed them, and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every second that went by.

But reality hit you: you were about to be completely, one hundred percent naked in front of him. Sure, he could barely see you with his body blocking most of the light, but he could still see you.

So your natural response was to bend your knees and cover as much from his perspective as you could.

"Y/N..." he said softly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your knee. "If you don't want to do this, we don't have to."

"I do want to. I've just never been naked in front of someone. Not since I was little and changed in the same room with my mom."

"Well, if it makes you more comfortable, you could always put your shirt back on. Me, personally, I like looking at you, so I wouldn't recommend that. But it's completely up to you."

You shook your head. "I need to get comfortable with it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

He nodded, and slowly spread your legs. Here, he had a full view of your body, and he only smiled. He kissed your thighs one at a time, settling down on his stomach. His mouth was so close to your vagina, and he knew it was driving you crazy.

The feeling of his tongue on your clit made you moan. Much louder than you intended. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them still on either side of his head.

Your right hand fingers tangled themselves in his hair, your left hand flat against the wall behind you.

"Shit, Eddie."

Your back was arching, your hips grinding into his mouth. His eyes were glued on you, wanting to see how you looked when he made you cum.

You knew you were grinding into his face quickly, but he managed to keep his mouth exactly where it needed to be.

Everything that was happening right now was making him hard as a rock, and resisting the pulsing and throbbing in his dick was driving him insane. But he needed to make you feel good. He needed to make you cum before he even took his pants off.

And it didn't take you long to get there. He could tell, too. Your moans had become desperate, needy. You were pulling his hair, which only turned him on more.

"God, I'm so close. Eddie, I'm gonna cum," you struggled to say. "Please. Fuck." You didn't know what you were begging for, as he was already getting you there.

And when you went over the edge, Eddie could've swore that the noises that left your mouth were the most beautiful sounds he'd heard in his entire life. Gasps, moans, cries, swears, and his name filled the room in a melodic song that even made him moan.

Tears dripped down your temples into your hair, your legs shook so hard that they felt like they were gonna cramp, and your eardrums rang.

You were in heaven, and you never wanted to leave.

He kept going so long that you felt like you couldn't breathe, and you had to physically tap out.

When he stopped, you were sweating and crying out of pleasure. He kissed your thighs more, giving you a moment to calm down before he got on top of you again.

When he returned to eye level with you, he kissed your cheek.

"Goddamn," you muttered, chuckling tiredly.

"You okay?"

You nodded. "Sorry if I was too loud."

"No such thing." He kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his lips. "Wanna keep going?"

"Of course, I do."

He rolled off of you and stood up for a moment to pull his pants down. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching into his nightstand and pulling out a condom.

He tucked your hair behind your ear again, making you look at him.

"If you wanna stop at any time, tell me. Okay?"

"Okay. I will."

He kissed you for a moment, rubbing himself against the area you were most sensitive.

Once again, he used his knees and thighs to bend your hips more, really spreading you open.

"Ready?" he whispered.

"Ready."

He reached down and guided himself to your opening, slowly sliding in. You closed your eyes and your jaw dropped as he bottomed out, which made him weakly moan.

"Fuck," he sighed. "You feel so good."

"So do you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So fucking good."

Hearing your sweet voice talk so dirty was a major turn-on for him, as you learned when you blew him.

"You like being stretched out like this?"

"Mhm. Feels so good."

He slowly pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into you, making you involuntarily moan. His mouth landed on your neck as he developed a steady rhythm, his left hand gripping the top edge of the mattress.

With his right hand, he cupped your cheek and pressed your foreheads together, making you look into each other's eyes.

"Eddie," you breathed, which made him grunt. "God, you feel so good. So fucking good."

"Yeah? You... fuck... feel good too. Really good. So warm and wet. God. I don't think I'll last much longer with you."

He buried his face in your neck, biting down on the skin hard but gentle enough to only leave a hickey.

The hand that was on your face reached down to the back of your thigh, almost to your ass cheek, and his fingers dug into the skin. This allowed him to bend your hip even more, your thigh pressing into the back of his bicep.

Every time you made a dirty quip, it only made him grunt and groan and moan even more. Every 'You're so deep' and 'You feel so good' awoke something inside of him that you didn't expect. He was pounding and slamming into you, but it didn't hurt. It felt amazing. If you knew he could make you feel this good, you would've blown him weeks ago.

His shoulder was pressed into your cheek, so you lightly bit down on it, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum. I'm so close."

"Cum for me, Eddie."

When you kissed his neck, it sent him over the edge. His hips slammed into the backs of your thighs, his fingers pressed into your leg, and he cried out right next to your ear.

A few thrusts later and he stilled his movements, leaving the only sound being your unsynchronized gasps for air. Neither of you moved for a good thirty seconds, both of you laying there with your eyes closed.

"Holy shit," he mumbled, lifting his head and looking at you. Once again, he pushed your hair out of your face, which was spotted with sweat droplets, before cupping your cheek and stroking it with his thumb. "You good?" You just nodded. He placed his palm on your chest and chuckled. "Your heart is pounding."

"I wonder why," you joked, which made him laugh harder.

"I'm gonna pull out now." He slid out of you with ease and you softly moaned, straightening your legs to be more comfortable. He rolled over to lay next to you, pulling the full condom off and throwing it in the trash can next to the bed and grabbing a tissue to clean himself off.

He grabbed a clean tissue and propped himself up on his elbow. He gently cleaned you up too, kissing you when he was done. He sighed, looking over at you.

You were staring at the ceiling, still breathing heavy.

A few moments went by before you flipped onto your side, laying your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and you bent your knee onto his leg. Once you got settled he kissed the top of your head.

"Can I ask you something?" he said softly.

"Hm?"

"What happened between you and Jason?" He could feel your demeanor change at the question. "You don't have to talk about it, but you didn't want to sit with his group at lunch, which I completely understand, and you thought he put me up to asking you out. What's all that about?"

You were silent for a moment.

"We were... acquaintances at one point. Not friends, we just knew each other. Not long after we learned about each other, he started targeting me. I'm sure you can guess what about. He would make fun of me at lunch for eating, or sometimes he'd even take my food and tell me I didn't need it. I thought maybe eating in the classroom during lunch would help, but the teacher almost never stayed in there so he'd find me and still do it.

"I tried to eat outside one day farther away from the school, but him and his friends followed me out there and surrounded the table I was at so I couldn't leave. I didn't know what they were gonna do, so I kinda just froze and let them harass me."

"What'd they do?" He was running his fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp, which he knew would calm you down.

"They took my lunchbox. They dumped everything out of the packaging and stepped on it so I couldn't eat it. They were assholes about it and kept calling me names." You took a deep breath and swallowed the spit in your mouth.

"Is that why you didn't want to eat in front of me?"

You nodded. "You're the first person I've eaten a whole meal in front of since then."

"Not even your family?"

"What, like they're any nicer?"

"Jesus. I wish I'd been there that day Jason did that."

"One of my friends at the time stopped them. He offered to buy me another lunch but I said no. I guarantee they only stopped because it was another guy that stepped in."

Eddie hugged you tightly, leaning his head down to kiss you.

"I'm sorry that happened. You didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that."

"I've learned to just avoid him."

"Well, if he starts bothering you again, you come to me, okay? He already thinks I'm a freak, he doesn't phase me."

"Thank you."

You both turned back to the movie, watching what was left of it. About fifteen minutes later when he noticed you were asleep, he covered you up with his blanket and watched you for a few minutes.

He smiled to himself, thinking how lucky he got to find you.

[korasonata]

Headcanon about the Life Series members remembering whichever season they won, but it also extends to their partners in varying degrees.

Grian won 3rd Life, so he remembers that season fully. He was partnered with Scar, so Scar ALSO remembers, but Scar didn’t WIN, so he doesn’t remember quite as clearly. There’s gaps in his memory, but he remembers some things. He remembers Grian, bits and pieces of their life together. He remembers Monopoly Mountain, and he remembers fire. He remembers leading Grian through the desert on a llama, but he doesn’t remember how the two had come to be partnered. He remembers Pizza, and he remembers a grave, but he doesn’t remember how they died. He remembers a pond, a sacrifice, a promise. He remembers a cactus ring, and he remembers Grian covered in blood, and he remembers the words “I’m sorry” spoken from his own lips like a broken sob, and then he remembers pain. So much pain…

Scott won Last Life, but he was partnered with Pearl and Cleo. Scott remembers fully. Cleo and Pearl, like Scar, only remember fragments. Pearl remembers Scott the clearest. She remembers holding his hand and staring into his eyes. She remembers the house they shared and their walls filled with lava. She doesn’t remember the circumstances that had led Cleo to them, but she remembers the woman holding her in her arms. She vaguely remembers someone shooting at her, a dark figure that was familiar and not. She remembers Cleo covered in arrows, the woman stooping down to hold her, to soothe her, and she remembers feeling scared and yet…safe. Protected.

Cleo doesn’t remember her time in the Fairy Fort, but she remembers BigB, a knife in her back, a sense of betrayal, a burning forest. And she remembers Pearl and Scott taking her in. She remembers Scott giving her a life, she remembers Pearls dance floor. She remembers Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. She gets very vague flashes of this person she doesn’t recognize. A woman with pink hair on a path, running away from her. She thinks the woman afraid of her, has very vague memories of herself wanting the woman to be afraid of her, although she doesn’t know why. She thinks she remembers being angry, but above all else, she remembers being sad.

Pearl won Double Life, and by extension Scott. But Scott was partnered with Cleo. Who was ALSO kind of bound to Martyn. Scott remembers the most. He remembers Cleo, obviously, but he also remembers a red cloak and a lone wolf. He remembers Pearl, but not why he had left her to start with. He doesn’t remember that he was the reason that she had become the Scarlet Witch. He remembers feeling bitter, and he remembers feeling resentment. He remembers cold. So much cold. He remembers a dying Cleo, and he remembers TNT. He remembers a self sacrifice.

The only thing Cleo remembers is wolves. Hundreds of wolves chasing her, like a recurring nightmare that keeps her awake every night. Wolves and a single flash of scarlet like a streak of blood through the trees. Aside from this, Cleo gets feelings. Like when you recognize the face of a stranger on the street but you don’t know their name or where you might recognize them from, but you just know you’ve met them before. She functions off of vibes, and for reasons she can’t explain she tends to know when someone is lying to her or when someone is untrustworthy. She remembers Scott vaguely, but doesn’t really know the full extent of their relationship, only that he feels comfortable and familiar. Like an old friend she had once knew.

Martyn also gets feelings, but in reverse. Like a completely random sense of de ja vu that seems to not make any sense to him at all. Unlike Cleo who might see a random stranger on the street and recognize their face, he has no recognition of anything. Like passing someone whom he does not know or recognize and then suddenly getting a “this has happened before” vibe. He might see flashes of the person, but he doesn’t connect that they are the same. Every now and then he’ll be out with his friends laughing and joking around and then out of the blue he’ll start to feel lonely, even when surrounded by the people he loves, and he can’t pinpoint why.

Martyn wins Limited Life, and by extension Scott. Scott remembers water and coral, hundreds of sea creatures swimming through the ocean. He remembers Martyn. Remembers begging the man to kill him, but not why. He has very vague memories of Cleo in this, him giving her time, but not much else. He remembers an army chasing him, and he remembers a fall. And then he remembers water again. He has vague memories of alliances turned bad, and he remembers Martyn threatening those who would cause him harm. He remembers feeling loved, and then he remembers betrayal. He remembers Martyn standing over him with a sword, but for the life of him, he cannot remember ever seeing it coming.